That I Would Be Good
by Cosette Cullen
Summary: Bella and Edward meet while traveling, falling in love against the backdrop of European history and literature, but both have secrets. Will Edward's sense of duty tear Bella apart? Will Bella allow herself to be vulnerable again?
1. Baguettes and French Fuckery

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: Before hitting the complete button on this story, I went back and cleaned up previous chapters and removed most of the A/N notes, as they don't really apply any longer since it is no longer a WIP. This is why you won't see any thank yous to readers for their reviews or info about when readers can expect the next chapter. No longer will there be pleas, asking for readers to leave reviews each chapter. However, though the story is now complete, I do hope that you'll take the time to leave at least one review, letting me know if you've enjoyed the story. I respond to each and every one. **

**ADVISORY: This story is for adults only. It contains lots of foul language and very explicit, graphic sex scenes. **

**This is an Edward/Bella HEA story. However, there will be one non-canon couple, albeit minor characters. Just an fyi for those of you who are not open to non-canon couplings, but I hope you'll give it a chance. I think these two are perfect for each other! **

**Pickwicksociety, JenKB, and Guitar Girl are my talented betas. Credit and thanks to Mel/mcc101180 and Scorp112 over at Project Team Beta for polishing this chapter up even more! **

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**"That I Would Be Good"**

**Alanis Morissette**

That I would be good even if I did nothing

That I would be good even if I got the thumbs down

That I would be good if I got and stayed sick

That I would be good even if I gained ten pounds

That I would be fine even if I went bankrupt

That I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth

That I would be great if I was no longer queen

That I would be grand if I was not all knowing

That I would be loved even when I numb myself

That I would be good even when I am overwhelmed

That I would be loved even when I was fuming

That I would be good even if I was clingy

That I would be good even if I lost sanity

That I would be good whether with or without you

_**Chapter One - Baguettes and French Fuckery **_

"What the flying fuck is going on?" Alice ranted as we looked out the slowing train's smudged window.

"Calm down, Al. There's nothing we can do about it, so chill."

She smirked at me, and as best friends usually do, I knew exactly what she was thinking. Alice would love it if I'd jump on her "the world is effed up, and I'm gonna let 'em know it" bandwagon. Sometimes I obliged, but for the most part I was her personal Lorazepam - chilling her the hell out when needed, which was pretty much every day.

But there would be no tandem cursing of the unexpected train stop; I was too content to allow anything to pull me from my reverie. Ignoring Alice, I stuffed my earbuds back in, settled into the cushy seat in our private compartment, and indulged in another bite of warm, freshly baked, nearly orgasm-inducing French baguette. Who knew there was bread so exquisite anywhere on Earth? The French rock, even if they are cocky asstards.

Popping into the bakery in Calais, France before boarding the train had been my brainchild. Having ferried over from Dover, England, my mild seasickness prevented me from eating on the way over. It appeared that the bakery was a brilliant move considering the currently immobile train. Who knew how long our two hour trip might end up actually being before we reached our destination. We could have starved to death if not for our baguettes.

Feeling the train come to a complete stop, I looked out the window again. This was most definitely not Paris. I surveyed the scene, but there wasn't much to see except the beautiful French countryside dotted with trees, a few farmhouses, and grazing sheep but no real civilization. There were no buildings except for one teeny-weeny train depot without any activity on the platform. We were in the middle of no man's land. Do people actually get off trains here?

I removed my earbuds but didn't hear any announcements on the intercom system explaining the reason for the stop. I glanced at Alice as she gave me her infamous eye roll. Closing my eyes, I settled down once again to the sounds of "Für Elise" coming through my iPod.

I still couldn't believe I was actually living in England and on my way to Paris during our school's spring break. After Paris, we would spend the rest of the week traveling to different cities around Europe.

When my professor at Arizona State University announced the exchange program that allowed a select few to fulfill their student teaching requirement in England, I had immediately begun my supplication to the gods that I would be one of the lucky chosen. What more could a soon-to-be English teacher ever want? Long before I'd decided to teach English, I dreamed of visiting England because of my British ancestral heritage.

Alice and I both had applied to the exchange program, which required perfect grades and a stellar essay explaining why we should be selected to represent both ASU and the USA overseas. The gods must have felt compelled to compensate me somewhat for the hell I'd been through a few years prior because–miracle of miracles–not only was I chosen for the exchange program, but Alice was as well. Three months in England with my best gal pal, teaching and traveling. My life was perfect–almost.

The only downside was this little exchange program wasn't exactly free, but, then again, living in a college dormitory and eating cafeteria food was about as cheap as living abroad could ever get. Luckily, my student loans paid my airfare and traveling expenses as I explored England and Europe.

A hand on my shoulder shook me from my thoughts; I looked up to see a uniformed man in our compartment.

"Excusez-moi, mademoiselle. Vous devez sortir du train."

"What? Uh, I speak . . . uh, l'anglais, um, English." I looked at Alice's perplexed expression and then back at the train dude.

Pointing out the window, he spoke in a thick French accent. "Ex-it. Ex-it."

"Oh my god, Alice. Look!" Through the window, we saw a large crowd of train passengers with their luggage standing on the tiny train platform.

"Ex-it. Baggage," he urged, pointing to our luggage.

"Well, as I said before, Bella, what the fuck is going on? Obviously we have to get off the train," Alice shrieked at me as she stood to pull her suitcase down from the overhead bin.

With two heavy pieces of luggage each and baguettes in hand, we left the compartment and followed the conductor guy through the narrow hallway with Alice bitching all the way.

"Are you fucking kidding me that I have to drag this luggage off the train? Are we really the last ones off? Doesn't anybody speak English around here? I thought it was the international language, for fuck's sake!"

Alice's frequent cursing always cracked me up. When she goes all crazy-woman dropping F bombs everywhere, I can't help but laugh my ass off. Something about this petite little thing, who looks like she'd float away if you blew on her, cursing like a sailor is all kinds of comical.

The two of us were complete opposites in many ways; Alice's swearing was just one example. I rarely cursed but not because of any moral dilemma. I suppose I felt that swearing had more impact if reserved for special occasions, like to express extreme anger or even lustful desire. Everyone who knew me was well aware that I meant business if I said the F word.

One thing Alice and I had in common was our love of literature. We had met during the first week of classes at ASU a couple of years ago. Because we had the same major, we were in almost every class together. After a few days of seeing Alice every time I turned around, we'd struck up a conversation. We had been inseparable ever since; we studied together, edited each other's essays, confided in one another, and eventually became roommates.

Alice's cursing halted as she approached the door. She exited the train first. Well, more accurately, she fell out of it first. There were three stairs and then a friggin' three foot drop down to the ground. As Alice tried to finagle her two suitcases down the steps with those short legs of hers, she biffed it. Yep, she sprawled out on the gravel with her bags next to her for all the passengers to see. The depot, where the passengers waited, was a good twenty feet away across an uphill, gravel-covered embankment.

"Oh, my god, Alice. Are you okay?" I asked sincerely, looking down at her from the train steps.

She grumbled more profanities, assuring me she was just fine as she yanked her blue t-shirt down to cover her exposed waist.

I giggled. "Good, because now I can laugh at you."

Having a little more length to my legs than Alice, I exited the train without falling, still chuckling aloud at the hilarity of it all. I even laughed at myself because I no doubt looked ridiculous as I grunted and pulled my luggage through the rocks all the while trying to hold onto my half-eaten baguette. I swear I could feel every friggin' eyeball on me as we trudged our way to the depot to join the rest of the passengers.

Quickly, my amusement turned from genuine appreciation for this comedy to pure nervous laughter; I felt like a bug under a microscope. I didn't want to even look at the crowd, but I had to in order to see where the flip I was going.

I raised my eyes. Yep, every last pair of eyeballs was looking straight at me and Alice. Just before embarrassment overtook me, my eyes locked onto _him_. Suddenly, I was overwhelmed with another emotion entirely - lust. Is that an emotion? Or maybe it was love. Is there such a thing as "love at first sight"? I didn't think so, but I would definitely have to rethink that.

I was just close enough that I could make out the green of his eyes. Hmm, green like emeralds, like my birthstone. But it wasn't the color of his eyes that stunned me; it was the way they bore into me as he met my gaze. Out of the emerald pools flowed amusement perhaps, kindness definitely, and something else I couldn't quite identify.

I broke from his stare as I followed Alice to the back of the crowd. Once I got my luggage situated, I searched the group until I spotted him a few people in front of me and to the right. Fortunately, even with all the bodies between us, there was a space where I could view him from head to toe. I started at the top because his hair was screaming for attention.

It was short but long and messy on top as if he had just woken up or maybe had wild sex. It was brown_. _No, not brown. Bronze. Do people have bronze hair? With a bit of copper. Brownish-bronzish-copperish, I suppose.

I vaguely heard Alice's continual cussing at my side, but it was muted as though I were underwater. I was dazed and dazzled as I continued my lusty analysis.

His profile was stunning with a strong, angular jaw line and prominent cheekbones.

His full, pouty lips were a deep red shade. _Holy mother of–_I seriously don't think I've ever seen lips like that on a man.

And he was rockin' a serious five o'clock shadow times two days at least. Good Lord, I love some scruff!

He was tall, like climbable tall. I felt my cheeks warm as I envisioned literally climbing him and wrapping my legs around his waist, while running my hands through that hair.

He wasn't buff in a bodybuilder kind of way, but I could tell he was lean and muscular. He wore a snug, long-sleeved, black Henley shirt paired with button-fly jeans and black hiking boots. He was Adonis personified.

The entire mental undressing I gave him without his knowledge couldn't have lasted more than 30 seconds when Alice punched me in the arm.

"C'mon, asshat, they said we can get back on the train," she screeched, pulling her luggage off the concrete platform and back through the gravel.

I followed behind her, quickly scanning the scattering passengers, looking for him. My Adonis entered a train car several ahead of my own.

Back in our compartment with the door closed, Alice was clearly still agitated.

"What kind of French fuckery was that? Making everybody get off the train with their fucking luggage for all of three minutes and then get back on? The asswipes were probably sitting in their little caboose watching us and laughing their asses off the whole time."

I numbly stared at her. I heard her, but I couldn't gather enough energy to reply because all my brain cells were still focused on _him_.

"Okay, spill, Bella. What was with the zombie stare out on the platform?" Alice smirked as she took off her shoes and curled her legs up into the seat.

"Um, was I that obvious?"

She laughed dramatically. "Obvious as a bitch in heat . . . but probably only to me."

"It's nothing. I just saw a really hot guy, that's all." I reached for my iPod, but Alice stopped me before I could tune her out.

"Wait a minute there, girlie! I didn't see any hot guys. Give me deets. What did he look like?" Alice pulled a compact mirror from her purse and began spiking her short, black hair.

"Of course you didn't see any hot guys, Alice. You were preoccupied with cursing the French and their trains for stopping in Timbuktu for no apparent reason."

"Yes, _and_–?" Alice urged.

"_And_ he was mouth-watering." I shrugged. "It doesn't matter anyway."

I jammed the earbuds in my ears and cranked up the volume before Alice had a chance to further interrogate me. My explanation to Alice was brief because what was the point in going on about him? It wasn't as if I would ever see him again. It wasn't as if I had never seen a handsome man before, for Christ's sake.

Honestly, I was somewhat embarrassed by both my physical and emotional reaction to this stranger, so I chose to keep those details to myself. I would never see him again, and even if I did, I wasn't available. _Remember your promise, _I chanted to myself.

As the train started again and gained speed, I watched the French countryside in a beautiful blur through the window, but all I could see was the green-eyed Adonis in my memory.

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_**A/N: Thank you for coming along on the journey.**_

**_Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. _**

**_For photos and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL – /groups/281151482005898/_**

**_Then request to be added to the group. _**

_**Photos will accompany almost every chapter beginning with chapter 2.**_


	2. Operation Nun

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: Pickwicksociety, JenKB, and Guitar Girl are my talented betas! Credit and thanks to Mel/mcc101180 and Twimarti over at Project Team Beta for polishing this chapter up even more! **

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_**Chapter Two - Operation Nun**_

"It can't be much further, Alice. My Frommer's guide book says the hotel is only a few blocks from the train station. I'm sure it's just around the corner," I reassured her while wrestling my suitcase that nearly toppled over every time its wheels rolled over a seam in the sidewalk, which was like every other step.

I was seriously wishing I had one of those huge travel backpacks that I'd seen smart tourists carrying. Really, what asshat travels Europe with suitcases that are heavy _even when empty_? Oh, yeah, Asshat à la Bella, that's who!

"Uh, Bella? _That's_ what you said fifteen minutes ago, but we seem to be going in circles. This is ri-fuck-u-lous!" Alice stopped in front of a corner store, catching her breath. "I'm going to ask somebody inside if they know where the hotel is." Leaving her luggage with me, she plodded into the clothing store.

We had arrived in Paris about an hour after our unexpected stop–_the_ stop–where I had seen _him. _Our first view of the City of Love was at night with the urban lights twinkling their greeting. As beautiful as it was, I was a little unnerved being in a bustling, foreign city at night, walking on a busy street with luggage in tow–two women, alone. It had occurred to me that we were either very brave or very stupid, or perhaps both.

Glancing through the large store window, I saw Alice animatedly speaking with a store associate. It was clear, without even hearing their conversation, that Alice was very frustrated–it was her "I'm gonna kill somebody" look. No doubt, I would be her second victim once she'd finished with Miss Frenchie in the store.

I rearranged my scarf tighter around my neck and cheeks, tapping my foot impatiently. "C'mon, Alice! I'm freezing my ass off out here," I muttered into the frosty air.

Best friend telepathy must have been in effect because right then Alice swung open the door of the store, immediately launching into a tirade.

"I thought all Europeans learn English in school?" She glanced at me but didn't stop talking long enough for me to answer. "I'm beginning to think the French _pretend_ to not speak English just to piss us off!"

"So does that mean we're still lost?" I asked sarcastically, followed by a snort. I knew that laughing when Alice was angry would piss her off even more, but I just couldn't help it. Really, I had to laugh, or I might have cried instead because I was tired and cold in the brisk February air.

"Yes, Bella, we are still lost," she huffed. "No thanks to your guide book. Mr. Frommer can kiss my sweet ass." Grabbing her luggage, she continued down the street. "Let's go!"

Thirty minutes and two failed attempts at asking for directions later, we found a hotel. It wasn't _the _hotel we'd been looking for, but anything was acceptable at this point. Finally, our crappy luck had turned, and we found ourselves at the St. Andres Hotel des Art. It was in a very old building. Of course, it was. _Everything_ was so freakin' ancient in Europe, which was precisely what I loved about it.

We entered what seemed to be a sitting room, or do they call them parlors? It was beautiful, not in an ostentatious way but in a quaint, turn of the century kind of way. The red carpet lay beneath a French-style, beige chaise lounge with matching sofa and chairs. An ornate white desk was in the middle of the room where a middle-aged man sat. It seemed as though we'd gone back in time to nineteenth century Paris, which made me a very happy Lit chick. Our luck continued when we discovered the man at the desk actually spoke English.

"Good evening, Mademoiselles." The French accent floated in the air, and I couldn't suppress my goofy smile. "How long will you be staying with us?"

Within minutes, we were escorted up the narrow, wooden staircase to a room. Alice and I dropped our luggage and simultaneously collapsed onto the twin beds.

"I'm more exhausted than a mom with a newborn," I whispered.

Alice groaned. "Just put me outta my misery now, please."

Then the giggles began. We laughed big belly laughs as we recounted our day's adventures. It had been a long day of travel, beginning when we'd left our college dorm in Falmer, England early in the morning, taking a train to Dover. From there, a ferry brought us over the channel to Calais, France. That's where we'd boarded the train that Alice had begun referring to as the Bullet of Bullshit. That's my Alice–comedienne extraordinaire.

I didn't tell her that I disagreed with her pet train name because I still hadn't come clean about how much Adonis affected me. Secretly, I couldn't help but think of it as the Train of Titillation, thanks to him. God, I love that word–Titillate. Titillating. Never has a definition better matched the actual sound of a word, but I digress. Though Alice was my confidante the majority of the time, I didn't want to admit even to myself, let alone to Alice, how much I'd thought about the handsome stranger during the last several hours or how those thoughts titillated me.

I was astonished at how deeply I'd been affected by a complete stranger who I hadn't even had a conversation with. It wasn't just the fact that I was more physically attracted to him than any man I'd ever seen–like _ever_!

It was more than just his physical appeal. It was what passed between us during those ten seconds of eye contact that had me reeling, then and now. That cornball saying that the eyes are the window to the soul kept coming to mind. The emotion I'd seen in his eyes that I couldn't identify at the time, I now suspected was sadness. He seemed tired, not physically but emotionally.

And then, there was the energy. It sounds like hokey-pokey shit, but there was this invisible yet palpable energy when we held each other's gaze. I don't know how else to describe it; I'd never experienced anything like it before. There was an indescribable connection as if I'd known him for a very long time, as though he was looking into my being, and he already knew me. How dare the universe dangle something like that in front of my face and then whisk it away? That's just effed up. I huffed my disdain to myself.

Hopping off the bed, I rummaged through my luggage for my toiletry bag and pajamas. "I'll be back. I'm going to the bathroom."

"Okay, but hurry up. I need to get in there, too," Alice replied as she pulled off her hiking boots.

"Okie Dokie."

I ambled down the rickety hallway as quietly as possible to the shared bathroom that Mr. French Guy had pointed out to us. Once inside, I locked the door and changed into my flannel pajamas as quickly as possible.

Normally, I was anti-flannel, but I knew it would be friggin' cold in Europe this time of year. I didn't get many opportunities in Phoenix–a.k.a. the Valley of the Sun–to wear winter coats, thermals, or flannel pajamas. If I _had_ to wear flannel, I would be damned if they'd be floral or striped granny PJs, so I turned to my home away from home, Victoria's Secret. Only Victoria could make flannel sexy: black, two-piece pajamas covered in hot pink, pastel pink, and white sexy lips.

I pulled my long, chestnut brown hair into a ponytail so I could wash my face easier. Catching a glimpse of my image in the mirror, I stopped and looked. I was no supermodel. I knew there were many women in the world more attractive than me, yet I also knew that I wasn't unattractive.

I stared in the mirror at the twenty-five year old woman with dark brown eyes and pale skin. Sure, I wished I wasn't so pale, that my breasts were a little bigger, and that I was taller. But, overall, I was pleased with my physical appearance. Again, I contemplated whether or not Adonis had been checking me out. Why had he looked at me with such intensity? Crapadoodles! I was doing it again. I was thinking about him for the 732nd time today which was utterly ridiculous for a multitude of reasons.

First, and most importantly, I would never see the man again. All I knew about him was that he was heading to Paris, a humongous city; it would be like winning the freakin' lottery if I crossed paths with him here. Paris might not have even been his final destination.

Secondly, even if I did win the Adonis lottery and saw him again, nothing could come of it. I had three more months before I could put myself back on the market. I jumped out of my thoughts and almost out of my skin when somebody pounded on the door.

"Bella! I'm gonna piss my pants. Let me in."

Opening the door, I offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry, Alice. It's all yours."

Alice zipped past me without a word. I returned to our room and immediately jumped into bed, shivering as I buried myself in the white, fluffy duvet. I closed my eyes and quickly drifted off to sleep with visions of hunchbacks and gypsies in my head, knowing tomorrow would be a great day because I would see the famed Notre Dame Cathedral.

* * *

"Hey, Bells," Alice called out. "There are the gargoyles just like in the Disney movie." She pointed at the top of the cathedral as we walked around to get a better view.

"Whoa, that's high up! Quasi was a brave little dude jumping around up there." I grinned.

"Bella, you _do_ realize Quasi is a fictional character? He didn't really live in Notre Dame," she deadpanned perfectly.

"You are such a dork, Alice."

We laughed while continuing in a slow circle around the awe-inspiring building, looking much like everybody else around: heads tilted back, eyes wide with amazement, and mouths hanging open.

Of course, I knew the story of Quasimodo was fictional, but I seriously doubted anybody could stand in front of Notre Dame Cathedral and _not_ imagine him hopping around the flying buttresses and swooping down to save Esmeralda. Even those less fortunate souls who don't read the classics probably watched movies, and there were a slew of them that dramatized Victor Hugo's classic novel, _The Hunchback of Notre Dame._ Even Disney cashed in, making an animated feature film of the classic story.

Notre Dame was the first stop on our list of tourist spots to visit in Paris. We had only one day here, so we were trying to cram in as much as possible. After enjoying breakfast provided by the hotel, we had begun the bundling process, which we had perfected during our two months living in England.

Black knee-length pea coat – check.

Black leather gloves lined with fluffy warmness – check.

Matching scarf and beret in a black and royal blue plaid – check.

Black backpack – check

I loved that I was wearing a beret in Paris, which was purchased especially for the occasion.

We had left St. Andre's very early and, by some amazing twist of luck, Notre Dame was close by. We'd enjoyed a brisk walk, chattering away about our itinerary for the day. And then, there it was. We could see Notre Dame from quite a distance away. We certainly didn't have anything like this in America.

As we'd approached the building–the word building is just all kinds of wrong; it's a giant work of art–we were actually speechless for a few minutes, which is really saying something for the two us.

Finally, Alice had broken the silence. "It must have taken them fucking forever to build this thing! What does Mr. Frommer say?"

Even though his handy-dandy guidebook had led us astray with the hotel last night, I figured the historical facts listed were probably accurate. I'd quickly unzipped my backpack, yanked the book out, and began to educate us both.

"It says that construction began in 1163 and was mostly complete by 1250." Alice and I stared at each other while both doing a mental calculation.

"Holy Hell, Alice. That's like eighty-some years!"

"Wow. Just wow." Her charcoal-lined eyes were wide with awe.

I chuckled, delighting in the phenomenon. Alice speechless? Wonders never cease.

The detailed carvings on the exterior were mind-boggling. We had walked around the entire perimeter taking in each and every detail. It was during our turn around the building that Alice had spotted the famous gargoyles.

As we returned to the front of the cathedral and entered the doors, it took a while for my eyes to adjust because the lighting was rather dim. I was overtaken by a sense of reverence. I didn't have to be a regular churchgoer to know it was time to use my quiet voice.

As we often did, Alice and I parted ways since sometimes one of us would take longer appreciating a statue or a particular architectural detail than the other. There were many sets of stained glass windows, but one in particular immediately drew my attention. The sun rays shining through brought it to life, colors more vast than those found in a rainbow, glimmering and luminous. Unable to drag my eyes away from it, I studied each color and picture, curious about the stories held within.

"It's exquisite, isn't it?" a deep but gentle voice spoke quietly.

I slowly turned, an audible gasp escaping my lips when I discovered the source of the alluring voice. I hoped the distance between us hadn't allowed him to hear that. Usually, I wasn't the kind of woman to get tongue-tied; I was confident, friendly, and articulate. Yet, there and then, in front of the man who I'd thought about incessantly and who I believed I'd never see again, my mind was void of any thought except for one.

_Holy Fuck, it's him! _

That thought wasn't exactly coherent and certainly nothing I should say aloud, so I said nothing. I'm not sure how much time passed, perhaps only a few seconds, but enough that he was forced to speak again.

"I've intruded," he muttered, running his hand through his hair. "My apologies." He began turning away.

"Oh, no, not at all!" I quickly blurted. "I was just surprised . . . and, uh, I recognize you. Um, I saw you on the train. No, not _on_ the train. I mean, when the train stopped?" I looked at him questioningly, silently begging him to remember me while simultaneously taking in his appearance.

His brown leather jacket complimented his brown-copper hair. The red scarf thrown around his neck framed his beautiful face, and his snug blue, button-fly jeans accentuated his–ahem–package very nicely. Yes, I looked; it couldn't be helped.

He pivoted back around, walking toward me until he was just close enough that I could have reached out and run my fingers through his sexy-as-hell copper mane. His close proximity allowed me to appreciate his height; I hadn't realized how tall he was when I saw him at the train platform. He towered over my petite frame, looking down at me intently. My eyes quickly swept over his features. I felt an urge to run my fingers over his facial stubble. His eyes were even more stunning up close, and they smiled at me as he spoke.

"Yes, I remember," Adonis whispered in a rather serious tone. "I remember well."

And there it was–_again_. I hadn't imagined it. I was, once again, locked into his gaze, paralyzed by the intangible energy flowing between us. We stared silently at each other. It felt like several minutes but was actually only a few seconds. The connection was broken with his melodic, sweet laughter.

"That was crazy, wasn't it?" He chuckled. "I still have no idea why the train stopped in the first place. Your friend wasn't hurt when she fell, was she?"

"Only her pride," I replied, giggling softly.

He didn't have a distinct accent of any kind; I guessed he was probably American. Just as I was about to ask him his name, where he was from, and if he would marry me–and if he wouldn't marry me, would he at least allow me to shag him senseless just once–we were interrupted by the woman who was supposed to be my best friend.

"Hey, Bella, are you ready? We have a schedule to stick to." She stood about ten feet away from us, waiting for my reply.

_Hell, no, I'm not ready, bi-atch! _I screamed silently.

Regrettably, I couldn't say that in front of him, nor could I utter the unvarnished truth: _"No, I'm not ready. I am currently talking to the most beautiful man on the planet and am plotting how to get him in my bed, or marry him, or both." _

"Um, yeah, sure, I'm ready," I answered regretfully. Alice turned, heading toward the exit.

"Guess we're leaving." I shrugged as I took a few steps away from him, walking backwards. "Enjoy, um, your vacation?"

"Oh, yeah, well, thanks. You, too." There was disappointment in his tone, but he smiled.

I slowly backed away from him, returning his smile with my own. I turned and darted to the door, leaving him behind once again. I knew that _this time_ I really would never see him again. Dèjà-fucking-vu.

I caught up with Alice just outside the door, immediately exploding with anger as we walked. "What the hell, Alice? When did you become a cock blocker?"

Alice raised her eyebrows in puzzlement. "What! You were just talking to a random guy. What are you so upset about?"

"What am I upset about?" I repeated, rolling my eyes for emphasis. "That was no random guy, Alice! That was _the_ hot guy I saw while you were falling on your face getting off the train."

Her eyes widened with understanding, her mouth forming a silent 'oh' for a few seconds. "Ooohh! I am _so_ sorry, Bella." She paused momentarily but continued when she was met with silence.

"Bella, stop!" She pulled at my arm. "We don't even know how to get to the subway. There's a bench over there. Let's sit and talk about this, and we'll figure out where we're going."

I silently agreed, following her to the nearby bench. Alice pulled out a Paris Metro map and pinpointed the closest subway station that would take us to the Louvre. Stuffing the map into her coat pocket, she looked at me and sighed.

"Okay, Bella. Obviously, I didn't know you were talking to _the_ hot train guy, but I'm not sure why that even matters. Operation Nun is still in effect, ya know? You told me to help you keep your promise."

"I know, Alice. You're right," I reluctantly agreed. "I overreacted. I'm sorry?" I looked up, giving her my best puppy dog eyes.

"Apology accepted _if_ you tell me what's really going on with you."

Alice paused, waiting patiently, knowing I would need a moment to gather my thoughts. She knew me so well, which was both comforting and, at times, unnerving. But instead of a well thought out, analytical explanation, I word vomited. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about hot train guy since yesterday."

Not allowing her time to respond, I continued rambling without taking a breath. "It's ridiculous! I know that! Not only can I not get involved with anybody right now, but even if I could, most likely he lives in another state, so there would be the whole long-distance thing. And I don't even know if he likes me in that way. Hell, I don't even know if he's available! I don't like feeling this way either. Well, I do, but I don't. It's like he has control over me and all my thoughts." I gasped for air, following my disjointed discourse while yanking the beret off my head. I anxiously kneaded the blue and black material, keeping my hands occupied.

"Bella? Look at me." I met Alice's compassionate eyes. "Do you think you've healed enough to be ready for a stable, healthy relationship?"

"Yes, I think so," I answered sincerely. "I've actually enjoyed focusing on myself for a change. I think I've finally gotten to a point where I understand my divorce was not entirely my fault. That guilt I carried was poison; it made me half a person."

Pulling my beret back into place, I stood up. "Let's walk while we talk. We've got a lot to see today." Alice hopped up, and I followed her toward the crosswalk.

"So, yes," I continued, "I really do think I'm ready to trust again and healed enough to make good choices, but–"

"But what?"

"But the promise was for a year, and I intend to see it through. I think I'd feel like a failure–_again_–if I gave in to some guy or to my own whims."

I looked at Alice, hoping to see understanding. Of course, she did not disappoint. She smiled a big, cheesy grin and wrapped her arm around me, pulling me close as we strolled alongside the Seine River.

"I get it, Bells. Though as smitten as you sound about hot train guy, it's a good thing there's little to no chance of seeing him again, or Operation Nun might be in danger."

Operation Nun. That was my creation. To ensure I didn't make another colossal judgment of error in my love life, I had instituted Operation Nun nine months ago.

The premise of Operation Nun was that I would not enter into a romantic relationship for one entire year. That meant no dating even "just for fun" because you never know when feelings and love and mushy stuff would sneak up on you and bite you in the ass. My self-imposed nunnery had given me time without distractions to examine myself and analyze what had caused my marriage to fail.

When my husband, Jacob, had left me suddenly two years ago, it had been like a death. After two years of marriage, he'd refused to have any contact with me. Truly, one day he was there, and the next day he was gone, so he might as well have been dead. I had been completely and utterly devastated. By willingly walking away from our life together, it was as if he was saying, "_Bella, I think my life would be happier if you were not in it._" Insert knife in heart, twist and turn.

I had always been a fairly confident woman, but being abandoned by the man I loved and whom I genuinely believed loved me, carved a giant chunk out of my self-esteem. So, when my unreciprocated teen crush, Mike, began paying attention to me a few months after the divorce, I'd responded like a lost and thirsty woman in a scorching desert. Mike was the water I desperately needed to hydrate my shriveling, dying psyche. It was a classic rebound relationship–I had jumped into it without any thought. If I hadn't, I would have known he was bad for me in all sorts of ways. We fought much more than we ever got along, and we didn't share the same life values and goals. The only thing we'd had going for us was damn good sex. Not only were we a poor match, but I wasn't good for any man at that point. I was needy and clingy, still broken and damaged.

It was difficult to end the relationship because I had become dependent on Mike for feeding my sense of self-worth. After six months, I'd somehow found the inner strength to extricate myself from the unhealthy relationship. Alice had been my rock, always encouraging me and telling me I deserved better. Once I was on my own again, it occurred to me that I was still emotionally vulnerable. I had been self-aware enough to recognize that I would probably continue to make poor dating choices. I would have little to offer a man unless I took some time to get my crap together. Thus, Operation Nun began.

I was proud of myself. I had made it nine months living quite happily as a nun, thank you very much! I wasn't about to mess it up, even for freakin' Adonis!

* * *

**_Pictures of the amazing places they visit can be found at either of the following sites:_**

**_Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. _**

**_For photos and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL – /groups/281151482005898/_**

**_Then request to be added to the group. _**


	3. Mona Lisa Smiles

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: I will forever be grateful to my devoted betas: Pickwicksociety, JenKB, and GuitarGirl. Credit and thanks to Mel/mcc101180 and MrsDazzled over at Project Team Beta for polishing this chapter up even more!**

* * *

_**Chapter 3 - Mona Lisa Smiles**_

"Mona Fucking Lisa! We are officially standing in front of the most famous painting in the world," Alice triumphantly declared.

"Alice, shh! Seriously? Potty mouth, not only in front of the Mona Lisa herself but in ear range of all these families . . . families with _children_, Alice," I chided, guiding her by the elbow, away from said children.

"Oh, relax. Nobody heard me." Alice snapped a few pictures of Da Vinci's famous lady. "Ya know, she really does look like she's smirking, as if she's keeping a dirty secret. Maybe she was hot for Da Vinci and this was her version of eye-fucking."

"Or maybe Mr. Lisa was under her dress while she was sitting for the portrait," I countered, raising my eyebrows up and down suggestively.

Alice covered her mouth to stifle a snort. "If _that's_ her 'O' face, he wasn't doing a good job under there. That's weak."

"Uh, Alice? It sort of feels blasphemous or something talking like this in front of Leonardo's masterpiece." I smiled, taking a picture.

"I know, right? I love being naughty!" Alice grinned devilishly, glancing at the museum pamphlet in her hand. "It says the French paintings are down the hall and to the right. Let's check them out real quick and then we're outta here."

I nodded, and we hurried through the corridor looking for the red room that housed French artwork. "Lordy! Does this place ever end?" I mumbled to myself.

Wikipedia was wrong when it stated that the Louvre was one of the largest museums in the world. It wasn't large - it was effing ginormous! We'd been exploring the museum for a couple of hours, and, according to the map, we had seen only a smidgen of it. We didn't have much time because we still needed to check out the Eiffel Tower, the Arc de Triomphe, and Victor Hugo's house.

As we entered the red room, we sauntered along, studying each painting. Alice lingered on one that didn't interest me, so I wandered on without her. As I rounded the end of the room to begin browsing on the other side, I stopped in my tracks as though I'd hit a brick wall. Holy Mother Duck! Are you kidding me?

He was standing across the room, hands stuffed in his jean pockets and eyes locked on a massive painting on the wall. I stood motionless, paralyzed by his perfection. His profile was flawless–Michelangelo could not have chiseled a more striking jaw line or cheekbones than this man's.

As I drank in his beauty, my breathing became rapid, the beating of my heart thunderous, and I felt the warmth of my blush on my cheeks. As sappy as it sounds, the truth was, he was more breathtaking than anything the Louvre had to offer.

I considered turning around, grabbing Alice, and making a mad dash out of the room. I had just told Alice a few hours ago that it was for the best that she had yanked me away from him in Notre Dame. It was important to me to keep Operation Nun intact; giving in to desire and romantic need would make me feel weak.

Yet, I didn't turn around–I physically could not do so. I swear to god, this man emanated an invisible magnetic field, pulling me toward him against my will. Well, not entirely against my will–a large part of me wanted nothing more in the world than to talk to him again.

But there was an annoying little voice inside my head, telling me I was perilously close to jeopardizing Operation Nun. _But that is a ridiculous notion_, I countered. My promise was that I wouldn't date or get into a relationship. How could I possibly do either of those things with a stranger while traveling–a stranger who would probably be in a different country by tomorrow? These rationalizations carried me toward him.

He didn't notice me as I approached, apparently lost in thought, studying the canvas.

"You like this painting," I stated. I had no idea what else to say. It seemed obvious; he'd been staring at it longer than I'd been staring at him.

Clearly startled, he turned, his puzzled expression shifting to a smile when he realized it was me. Quickly, the smile transformed into more of a teasing smirk. "Are you following me?"

"Um, yeah, because clearly there is no other reason I would come to the Louvre. There really isn't much here to see," I quipped, glancing around the room.

"Touché." He laughed, running his hand through his hair.

I returned his laugh with a warm smile, my eyes quickly fixating on his fingers, which were still mingling with his mane. His hands were large, even for a man, and his fingers were the longest I had ever seen. Copper locks danced between each finger, and I couldn't help but imagine what he could do with those long fingers–sexy, naughty things. My eyes followed his hand as it moved from his hair to his scruffy jaw, rubbing it absentmindedly. This was a first–when the hell did hands become such a turn on for me? I was captivated, literally staring at his hand like a dumbass. I didn't know what had come over me, but I was beside myself over this man's effing hands. _Speak, Bella, speak! _I urged my scattered brain to get into gear.

"So what's the story with this painting?" I motioned to the artwork he'd been looking at before I interrupted.

He glanced up at it. "This is a depiction of Napoleon coronating his wife, Josephine, which, interestingly enough, took place at Notre Dame, where we both just came from." He smiled warmly.

"Really?" I looked at the painting and then back at him. "That _is_ interesting. So I'm somewhat history-challenged, but that would have taken place maybe . . . late 1700s?"

"You're pretty close actually–1804." He lowered his eyes almost bashfully, shoving both hands in his pockets. "Um, yeah, I'm a bit of a history geek."

"That's a good thing, especially in Europe." I tucked a stray hair behind my ear. "You'd be handy to have around in a place like this." I smiled coyly.

"Well, I'd be happy to be your tour guide, but maybe you should know my name first." He extended his hand. "I'm Edward, and you are?"

I gaped at the hand that just moments before had been the object of my lust. Taking it in mine, I noted that it was warm and smooth and so freakin' huge that my small, feminine hand disappeared within it.

"Bella. My name is Bella. It's nice to officially meet you, Edward."

I felt a physical tingle in the flesh of my hand as we briefly touched. Reluctantly, I released his hand.

"Bella. That's unusual. I like it."

I smiled bashfully. "Thanks. So, uh, are you alone?"

_Please be single and alone. Please, oh, please_. What the hell is wrong with me? It doesn't matter _at all_ if he is single or not.

"No, I'm traveling with my buddy, Emmett. We're bumming around Europe for a while. He's around here somewhere." He surveyed the room quickly. "Yeah, there he is," he said, pointing to a muscular, blond guy on the other side of the room.

"Huh . . . and that's my friend right next to him. The petite gal, short dark hair, standing to his right?" Alice was admiring a painting just a few steps from where Emmett was standing.

"Yes, I remember her from Notre Dame." There was a brief, awkward pause before Edward continued. "Shall we?" he said with a smile, gesturing toward our friends.

I nodded in agreement. As we walked across the room, Edward continued our conversation. "Bella, where are you from?"

"Phoenix." I had to look up to meet his eyes as he towered over my 5'6" frame. "And you?" He laughed. I wasn't sure why Phoenix was funny.

"Well, we could not be from more opposite climates. I'm from Seattle," he said, snickering.

Now I understood his amusement. "No kidding? Hmmm, I'm not sure I could handle all that rain."

"And I'm not sure I could handle all that desert and lack of green!"

"Touché." We laughed together as we approached Emmett and Alice. They must have heard us because they both turned around as we approached. They walked toward us until the four of us stood together, forming a circle.

"Alice, this is Edward. He's from Seattle. And, um, Edward, this is Alice, my best friend."

Edward shook her hand. "It's nice to meet you, Alice." He motioned to Emmett. "Bella, Alice, this is Emmett, my partner in crime."

Emmett didn't offer his hand like Edward had, but he beamed a welcoming smile. "Ladies, it's fantastic to meet you both."

We walked as we visited, commenting on the artwork around us in between getting to know each other with questions like "Where are you from?" and "What brings you to Europe?" We filled the guys in on our student teaching in England and explained that we were traveling during the school's spring break.

"What do you guys do in Seattle?" Alice asked them both but more specifically Emmett. She hadn't taken her eyes off of him since they'd met. I hoped her ogling wasn't as obvious to them as it was to me because Alice had a boyfriend back home.

"I'm a freelance writer," Emmett answered. I totally got why Alice was gawking. Any woman with blood flowing through her veins would agree that Emmett was a good-looking man. Blond hair, blue eyes, dimples, and totally ripped. That was obvious even though his coat concealed his muscular bulk. Emmett was definitely attractive. It was just that, in my opinion, Edward was in another league of hotness entirely.

I quickly realized Alice wasn't going to directly ask Edward the same question. She appeared to have hot guy brain damage, so I redirected the question to him. "And you, Edward? What do you do back home?"

He suddenly looked uncomfortable, with eyes down and his hand raking through his hair again. He seemed to play with his hair a lot, probably a nervous tick–a very sexy, nervous tick. "Um, well, I sorta work in the family business, but . . . um, yeah, I'm kind of taking a break."

Before I could question him further, he interrupted the flow of conversation. "Hey, look at this! I recognize this from pictures."

We followed him toward an odd-looking statue, odd because the female body had no head and no arms, only wings.

"This is amazing," Edward said animatedly. "It's called the _Winged Victory of Samothrace. _Are you guys familiar with it?" He pulled his gaze from the statue long enough to look at us for a response.

His excitement was so freakin' adorable, like a little boy in a toy store. "No, sadly, my knowledge base of art is sorely lacking, right along with my knowledge of history." Feeling quite pitiful, I added, "But I can answer almost all of the Trivial Pursuit questions about literature."

"So what's the story with this headless broad, Edward?" Alice quipped. Emmett laughed, and the flirty smiles shared between them were not lost on me.

"Well, she wasn't originally armless or headless," Edward explained. "She was found this way, damaged, in the 1860s. But what is so mindboggling is that she is believed to date back to around 190 B.C."

"Holy Mutha!" Alice whispered.

I giggled at Alice's two-word response. "And who is she?" I asked, wondering how it was possible that Edward could be so beautiful and so smart at the same time. It seemed God was feeling generous the day he created Edward.

"The Greek goddess, Nike," he answered, backing away from the statue until he was next to me. "I don't actually know a lot about art either, Bella. But I've studied Greek and Roman mythology, so that's why I know about this particular piece."

"Ahh . . . well, it's good to know you're not an expert in every subject!" In reality, I wouldn't care if he was an expert on everything. His obvious intellect and cultural appreciation made him more than just sex-on-legs; he had a depth to him that made me swoon. Yes, swoon . . . I was fucking swooning!

"So, all-knowing Edward," Emmett teased, "do you know anything about this Nike woman?"

"Well, yes, as a matter of fact, I do, Emmett," Edward answered good-naturedly. "Nike was the goddess of speed, strength, and victory."

"Impressive, Edward." Alice smiled. "And as much as we'd like to continue to be enlightened by you and tour the entire Louvre, our time is up." She looked at Emmett, her smile dropping. "We're on a tight schedule and need to get going."

My heart sank, and I felt a twisting in my stomach. I looked at Edward and saw that his eyes no longer held the excitement of just a few moments ago. They were piercing through me, and I wondered if he could possibly be as drawn to me as I was to him.

I wanted nothing more than to invite Edward and Emmett to explore Paris with us. But I knew now, even more than before, that it would be a risky choice for both Alice and me. It was clear that Alice was crushing on Emmett, which was not cool since she had a long-term, serious boyfriend. Though I didn't think Alice would actually cheat on Jasper, it would be prudent to stay away from the temptation.

If I spent the entire day with Edward, I knew I would fall for him. Hell, I had already fallen for him. Even if I was willing to end Operation Nun, I still couldn't allow myself to become any more smitten with him than I already was. I was certain it would bring me nothing but a broken heart. He might not even feel the same way about me, and even if he did, long-distance relationships rarely last. Why set myself up for a broken heart when mine was still scarred and tattered?

"Yeah, I guess we lost track of time. We're leaving Paris in the morning, so we've got to see as much as possible today," I explained, glancing at both Edward and Emmett. Edward continued staring at me in numbing silence.

"Oh, sure, ladies, we understand." Emmett looked at Alice. "So where are you off to after Paris?" He managed a smile, but it seemed forced.

"Our next stop is Munich," Alice replied. "What about you guys?"

"We have no idea!" Emmett bellowed with a laugh. "We don't believe in itineraries, do we, Edward?" He punched Edward's arm playfully. Edward briefly glanced at him but remained silent, his focus immediately returning to me. "We won't know where we're going until tomorrow," Emmett continued.

"Really? That sounds fun, but Bella would be a blithering mess if I tried to pull that on her! She has our trip planned down to every fucking minute!" Alice revealed. "Huh, Bells?"

Alice's revelation of my anal retentive tendencies managed to elicit a crooked smile from Edward, making me weak in the knees–literally. But his smile remained for only a second.

"Yes, Alice! Guilty as charged." I shrugged, a bit embarrassed. "I can't help it." I looked to Edward, and he rewarded me with another smirk, though his eyes were reassuring, not judgmental.

"Hey, that's okay, Bella. There's nothing wrong with being organized," Emmett sweetly affirmed.

"Thanks, Emmett."

Then there was silence–awkward, deafening silence. Emmett stood with his arms crossed, glancing between Alice and Edward. Alice nibbled on a fingernail, her eyes darting between Emmett and the floor. Edward, facing me, hands shoved in his jeans pockets, alternated his gaze between me and some unknown object behind me.

It was the proverbial elephant sitting in the room. Everybody felt it, and all of us had something we wanted to say, but nobody spoke. Humor was the answer for almost everything, definitely the solution for awkward tension.

"So, yeah, I think I'm about to turn into a blithering mess as Alice said since we're behind schedule, so, uh, Emmett, it was great meeting you."

Emmett politely responded in kind and then turned to Alice. I vaguely heard niceties exchanged between them as I focused on Edward.

"Edward, it's been . . . um, enlightening." Certainly, he'd enlightened me with his historical knowledge, but, more than that, meeting him had enlightened me as to the possibilities. I hadn't known that it was possible for another human being to make me feel like _this_. The pulsing, vibrant, magnetic charge between us was foreign, and, now that I knew it was possible, I wouldn't settle for anything less.

"Bella." He spoke softly, his tone almost reverential. He extended his hand once again to shake mine, but when I placed my hand in his, he didn't shake it. Instead, he placed his other hand on top of mine so that it was nested within his enormous, warm hands. My heart palpitations increased, and I could feel each beat thundering in my chest as if I had just run around the block. "It's been my pleasure meeting you. Enjoy your time here in Europe."

"You also, Edward."

He gave me a small smile and released my hand, causing me to internally wince at the loss of his touch. I took a few steps toward Alice as Edward said his goodbyes to her.

As we walked away, Alice and I threw out another "Take care" and a wave. When we approached a turn in the hallway, I had an overwhelming compulsion to look back. I hoped he would still be in view because I needed to see him just once more, to sear into my memory his ethereal beauty. Before I rounded the corner, I glanced over my shoulder as casually as possible. He was still there. Not only was he still there, but he was watching me. Both he and Emmett stood motionless observing our departure, or maybe they were just checking out our asses. Regardless, at that moment, Edward's eyes were on mine. I slowed my pace so I could hold his intense gaze a little longer. Then we rounded the corner, and he was gone.

* * *

**_There are pictures of all the amazing places that they visit which can be viewed at either of the following sites:_**

**_Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. _**

**_For photos and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL – /groups/281151482005898/_**

**_Then request to be added to the group. _**


	4. Dinner for Four?

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: Edward adores Pickwicksociety, JenKB, and GuitarGirl for editing him so well.**

**Credit and thanks to Mel/mcc101180 and ginginlee over at Project Team Beta for polishing this chapter up even more!**

* * *

_**Chapter 4 - Dinner for Four?**_

It couldn't have worked out better had I planned it. I had no idea how I, Bella Swan, micro-manager extraordinaire, had failed to discover in my research that there'd be a carnival in Munich on the day of our arrival.

As we ascended the stairs out of the subway, we were engulfed in a swarm of very happy, beer-drinking, dancing Münchners and probably a few lucky foreigners like ourselves. Confetti floated down upon us, music blasted from a stage, and the smell of beer filled the air. Alice and I looked at each other with confused but happy faces. We didn't know exactly what was going on, but obviously, it was one big street party, German style.

We had left Paris at a horrifically early hour in order to get to Munich as early in the day as possible. We had checked into our hotel first so we could leave our baggage and freshen up before beginning our day of sightseeing. We then hopped on the subway to Marienplatz, an area known as the heart of the city.

Though a festival wasn't on my planned itinerary, and contrary to Alice's word vomit to Edward and Emmett about my love for schedules, I was quite willing to go with the flow from time to time. This party was exactly what I needed to get Edward out of my head. It was also exactly what my stomach needed. We hadn't eaten since four o'clock in the morning just before boarding the train in Paris. It was now nearly noon, and I was famished. We worked our way through the crowd looking for food vendors.

"I know there is food somewhere – I smell it!" Alice announced. Just then, a delicious-looking bratwurst passed by right under our noses, carried by a cute, twenty-something girl wearing a crazy jester hat.

"And I fucking see it!" Alice tapped the girl on her shoulder. "Excuse me, miss!"

The jester girl turned back toward us. "Where did you get that?" Alice pointed to the brats in the girl's hand.

The girl began speaking in German, but fortunately, when met with blank faces, she used the universal language of hand signals and pointed us in the right direction.

"Danke, thank you, danke." I smiled at her as I proudly used one of the three German words I knew.

We soon found our way through the crowd to the food and beer vendors. After a short wait in line, we devoured the bratwurst while swaying to the music and admiring the spectacular architecture of the Neues Rathaus, which translates as New Town Hall. I handed my beer to Alice so I could pull off my gloves and unbutton my coat. It was a beautiful day in Munich, chilly but not teeth-chatteringly so, thanks to the sun that chose not to hide today.

Curious about the building in front of us that seemed to be the centerpiece of the festival, I grabbed my guide book from my backpack before reclaiming my beer from Alice. We moved through the crowd, soaking up the energy and atmosphere as I read to Alice about the massive structure that looked much too beautiful to house government offices. The New Town Hall was constructed in the Flemish Gothic style and was completed in 1874. Its façade was massive with ornate stone ornamentation and a multitude of windows, arches, and spires.

When we spotted two German policemen in the crowd, we asked if we could get a picture with them. It was our goal to get a photo with policemen in every European city we visited. Sometimes, if we were lucky, they were young, hot policemen with even hotter accents who were only too happy to flirt with two American women and oblige us with a picture.

The mass of people began to thin out the further we walked away from the main area. We soon found ourselves on a street bordered by more architecturally appealing buildings. We admired them as we walked, but we were looking specifically for the Frauenkirche, or Cathedral of Our Dear Lady.

"Really, Bella? Another cathedral? What is this–cathedral number forty-seven?" Alice teased.

"No, I think this is only number thirty-six," I deadpanned.

I knew Alice wasn't seriously opposed to seeing another cathedral. She was just as in love with the antiquity and artistry that Europe's buildings had to offer as I was.

After consulting the map and orienting ourselves, I figured I'd try to get Alice to open up to me about Emmett while we walked. We had talked about the guys right after we left them at the Louvre, but it was all surface talk. Alice had completely blown me off when I pointed out the obvious attraction between her and Emmett. This didn't surprise me; it's next to impossible to be honest with somebody about your feelings until you are honest with yourself. Perhaps today, after she'd had time to process her feelings, she would be more forthcoming.

"Alice, can you at least admit that you find Emmett attractive?" I asked bluntly, deciding the subtle approach hadn't worked.

"What the fuck?" She shot me a death stare. "I thought we were talking about cathedrals?"

"We were, but now we're talking about Emmett."

Alice answered with silence.

"You're in a committed relationship, Alice. You're not dead. It's normal to notice other men," I coaxed.

"I know that, you nosey bitch," Alice chided with a smile. She paused for a moment, but then continued. "It's just that –" She halted again, struggling for the words. "I didn't just notice he was hot. I felt like I wanted to know him."

She looked at me with guilt in her eyes, looking for my response. I nodded my head encouragingly, knowing that she would continue if I remained quiet. Sometimes it was challenging to open the dam that held back Alice's feelings, but once I did, they always gushed out unedited.

"Yeah, I've always noticed good-looking men, of course. But I never felt like I wanted to go beyond just noticing . . . until now. And that fucking freaks me out! I don't understand why I would be drawn to someone else. I mean, Jasper and I, we've been together for five fucking years, and he's my best friend. I can't imagine not having him in my life. But it doesn't even matter, Bella, because they were just two random guys that we'll never see again. So can we just drop it?"

Having arrived at our destination, she immediately began taking pictures of the white cathedral topped with a turquoise spire. I sighed, deciding to let the subject of Emmett go for now. It was true we wouldn't see Edward or Emmett again, but Alice needed to figure out why she was drawn to somebody else while in a serious relationship with Jasper. For some time before we left Phoenix, I had sensed that there was something off between them. I hadn't mentioned it to her because I couldn't really put my finger on it, but now I was sure there was something that wasn't quite right between them.

* * *

"So what's the story with this place? The Nazis hung out there or something?" Alice ran some kind of goo through her hair, twisting and separating it into her pixie-like style.

I ran a brush through my long, straight, goo-less hair. "Yep, apparently, Hofbräuhaus was one of the beer halls used by the Nazi Party to declare policies and hold functions. It's a very popular place with tourists as well as locals."

"We're going to eat dinner in the same place where Hitler hung out?" Alice wrinkled up her nose. "That's kind of creepy."

I slipped on my black leather, high-heeled boots. I was bored with wearing sneakers every day, and since we didn't have far to walk, I figured I would dress up a bit, wearing my black skinny jeans paired with a form-fitting, powder blue, v-neck sweater.

"That's not even the most bizarre part," I continued. "The book says that some of the first violent attacks on Jews happened at Hofbräuhaus."

"Well, unfortunately, it _is_ a part of history, and history is intriguing–the good, the bad, and the ugly. It'll be interesting to go there in a 'I can't look away from the car accident' sort of way," Alice bemused, misting herself with perfume.

She had opted to go dressy casual for the evening as well. The burgundy red, cashmere turtleneck contrasted strikingly with her ebony hair. I informed her of this fact and was then accused of being a lesbian on the down-low. It was classic Alice–deflecting a compliment with pointed wit. We giggled about the absurdity of _me_ being gay as we left the hotel.

A middle-aged blond man walking down the sidewalk struck up a conversation with us as we turned the corner. At first, I was leery, but he proved to be just a friendly local who spoke pretty decent English. He wanted to know where we were from, and he gave us detailed directions to Hofbräuhaus. This was certainly a stark change from our time in Paris where nobody seemed to want to talk to the dumb Americans who didn't speak French. Paris had been fraught with problems, but it seemed we were off to a good start in Germany.

As we entered Hofbräuhaus, it became clear that we would be partying with a large group of Münchners and tourists for the second time today. The interior was a vast, open room with gold walls, large arched windows, and multiple supporting columns wrapped in dark wood. The pillars ran up to the ceiling, which was no ordinary ceiling. It was painted with greens, golds, and oranges in various designs and patterns. The long wooden tables flanked with wood benches held smiling people with massive, glass mugs of beer in their hands. Music filled the hall, and a quick glance around the room revealed the source. There was a band of musicians playing some kind of perky, upbeat music. Polka, maybe?

When the hostess seated us, we realized that at Hofbräuhaus everybody sits together family-style. Friends, family, and strangers, including locals mixed with tourists from all over the world, sat amongst each other, enjoying dinner and conversation.

After ordering our meals and, of course, one of those giant mugs of beer, I tried to talk to a German couple sitting next to us. Alice and I spoke zero German, and they spoke very little English. They were so sweet; they kept trying to communicate with us even though it was difficult. We figured out that they were locals, but, mostly, they were interested in learning about us. Between their limited understanding of English and our very creative use of miming, we were able to convey that we were from Arizona. They were excited about that because they associated Arizona with cowboys and the Wild West, courtesy of Hollywood western movies. I almost felt like a celebrity the way they giggled and asked questions about America in German-accented broken English.

I had nearly finished my delicious roast pork with grated potato dumplings when Alice suddenly jumped up from the bench. She waved wildly as if trying to get someone's attention. I looked in the direction she was gesturing, quickly discovering the reason for her outburst because, even in a crowd, they stood out. I couldn't fucking believe it!

Edward and Emmett were walking toward our table. My memory of Edward had been flawed–he was even more heart-stoppingly hot than I remembered. Together, the two of them were eye candy overload!

Edward sauntered across the room, never taking his gaze from me. He was more casual than I'd seen him before, wearing a black hoodie over a t-shirt instead of the leather jacket he'd worn yesterday in Paris. And blasphemy of all blasphemies–his wildly sexy hair was covered with a black beanie. I quickly decided that though I preferred him beanie-less, having his hair covered actually accentuated his angled jaw and defined cheekbones even more.

"Ladies, do you mind if we join you?" Emmett crooned as they approached our table. He didn't look too bad either. He wore a thick ivory turtleneck sweater with faded blue jeans, but no jacket.

"I dunno," I purred, smiling coyly at Edward. "Not sure if it's appropriate to dine with my stalker." I amazed myself sometimes–how I came up with that little quip when I was in utter shock at their unexpected reappearance, I'll never know.

Alice quickly interjected, "Um, she's kidding, of course. Have a seat, guys."

"Well, I was only half-joking. Really, this is too much of a coincidence. Just admit it; you followed us." I aimed the accusation directly at Edward, a teasing smile on my lips. His eyes darted away from me, and he smiled bashfully. Holy crap, he looked embarrassed. Had they really followed us?

Edward cleared his throat. "Well, we didn't _literally_ follow you. But, yeah, we knew you were coming to Munich today."

"And we figured there would be a good chance you'd be at Hofbräuhaus since it's a popular place with the tourists," Emmett eagerly offered. "We thought you might appreciate Edward's historical knowledge again."

Alice laughed. "Oh, definitely, because we couldn't possibly get along without Edward the Tour Guide."

With a straight face, Edward countered, "Nah, we just thought we could benefit from Bella's mad travel planning skills. We're lost without her."

Everybody burst into laughter, including me.

"So you've been here awhile? Looks like you're about done," Emmett observed, pointing to our dinner plates.

Alice picked up her nearly empty mug of beer. "Hell, no, I've only just begun. I need another beer!"

"And I'm eyeing that apple strudel for dessert," I added. "Have you guys eaten dinner yet?"

"No, we haven't. What did you have?" Edward eyed my plate.

"Roast pork. I recommend it."

"Sounds good to me." Edward smiled, his eyes lingering on mine.

Just then, the waitress came by and took their dinner order. I asked her to bring my apple strudel along with their dinner, so they wouldn't have to eat alone.

We introduced Emmett and Edward to the charming German couple sitting with us. We all held out our beer mugs and swayed back and forth to the music, laughing while we watched a couple dance the polka around the room.

Once the food came, we settled down a bit. The banter between the four of us was easy and effortless. Soon we fell into one-on-one conversations–Edward and I in our own world, and Alice and Emmett in theirs.

"So, Bella, since you're studying to be an English teacher, obviously you enjoy reading. Who are your favorite authors?" Edward asked.

"For my degree, I studied both American and British Literature. I have favorites from both, but I tend to be partial to British authors like Jane Austen, Charles Dickens, and William Wordsworth, though he was a poet, not a novelist."

"I'm familiar with the first two authors, but I can't say I've actually read any of their novels." Edward grimaced as if anticipating a scolding.

I gladly gave him a flirtatious chastisement. "Okay, I absolve you for the heinous crime of not reading Austen; her target audience _is_ decidedly female. But Dickens? He was a storytelling genius. You're seriously missing out."

I swallowed a gulp of beer while simultaneously melting inside over Edward's crooked grin. "So you don't know British literature. What _do_ you like to read . . . or are you a reader at all?" I smirked.

"I do read," he said, chuckling as if amused by my insinuation that he might not be as well-read as me. "I read quite a bit actually, mostly modern stuff, but I'm familiar with a few American classics. I've read Hemingway, Hawthorne, Steinbeck. Do those score any points with you?"

"Absolutely! Any reading at all scores points with me. In fact, I wrote a research paper showing that reading _anything_, even comic books, which some teachers would think is a waste of time, actually contributes to higher marks in all subjects. Reading makes you a better speller, a better writer, and gives you a wider vocabulary."

"So does that mean you're going to let your students read comic books instead of Dickens?"

I chuckled. "Well, not _instead_ of Dickens, but I do plan to require fifteen minutes of reading each day from my students. And, yes, reading comic books or even the back of the cereal box will count. They will still have to read Dickens or something as important because being exposed to that type of literature makes a well-rounded and compassionate person, in my opinion."

Edward's brows knitted together in contemplation. "I hadn't really given it much thought before, but I would have to agree. Reading opens you up to other cultures, socio-economic conditions, tragedies."

"Exactly, much like traveling. Speaking of, where have you and Emmett visited so far?"

"We started in Scotland, and then worked our way down through England. Then we came over to Calais and caught the train into Paris." Edward rolled his eyes. "And you know the rest of _that_ story."

"Ah, yes, the infamous Bullet of Bullshit!"

"The what?" Edward's eyes widened, and he choked on his beer.

Alice chimed in, apparently overhearing her pet name for the train. "The Bullet of Bullshit, Edward! Because it was complete bullshit that we were the last ones off that train carrying our luggage, me falling on my face, only to stand on the platform for one fucking minute."

Emmett was turning red, attempting to contain his laughter.

"What?" Alice glared at Emmett. "You saw me fall down, didn't you?"

Edward and I joined Emmett, but our laughter was bursting without restraint. Finally, Emmett released a much needed snort, quickly followed by Alice's infectious giggle.

"What the hell was that all about anyway?" I looked at both Edward and Emmett questioningly. "Do you guys know why the train stopped in the first place?"

"No, we never did find out what was going on," Edward muttered.

Still trying to contain his laughter, Emmett croaked, "Speaking of trains, what are your plans for tomorrow. Are you leaving Munich?"

"Sort of. We're taking a train to see Neuschweinstein Castle, but we'll come back to Munich in the evening." I turned my attention to Edward. "What about you guys? What's on the agenda for tomorrow?"

Edward gave me a small smile. "No agenda, no plans."

"Well, then you two should come with us," I proposed. "It'll be fun!"

Edward glanced at Emmett with hesitation in his eyes before looking back at me. "Um, are you sure? We wouldn't want to intrude on your vacation."

Alice retorted, "Oh, please _do_ intrude on our vacation. Even with the best of friends like Bella and me, there is such a thing as _too much_ togetherness. Between rooming together at the dorms, sometimes teaching together, and traveling together . . . well, I think we'd both welcome the sound of someone's voice other than each other's. Huh, Bells?" Alice nudged me affectionately with her elbow.

Once again, Alice, just being Alice, provoked more laughter from Emmett with her little speech.

"Well said, Alice." I looked up at Edward through my lashes while biting my bottom lip. This was a nervous habit of mine that experience had taught me drove most men crazy. "Really, you should come with us."

I did not want to say goodbye to Edward again. He was not only beyond handsome, but he was easy to talk to, funny, friendly, and completely captivating. I just had to have more time with him, so I used my flirtatious womanly wiles to the best of my ability.

"We'd love to," Edward said, his gaze resting on my lips.

"Awesome!" Emmett bellowed. "So what's the plan? Where and when?"

We finished our last beer while explaining the details of tomorrow's excursion. It would be an hour long train ride to a small village outside of Munich called Schwangau. They groaned like teenagers when we told them to meet us at the train station at 7:30am. We left the restaurant together and then said goodnight outside as we walked in opposite directions to our respective hotels.

As soon as we were outside of hearing range from the guys, Alice ordered in an accusing tone, "All right, girlie, start talking!"

"What?" I was genuinely clueless.

"You know what the fuck I'm talking about. '_Oh, you two should come with us. It'll be fun,'" _she mimicked me in a sing-songy voice.

"You were not exactly opposed to the idea, _girlie! _What was that little song and dance about us having too much togetherness, and how we would love to hear somebody else's voice for a change? You practically begged them to come with us."

"Fine! I'll fucking admit it if you will."

"Fine!" I squeaked irritably.

Silence.

"So then admit it, Alice!"

She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Okay, I wanted them to come with us. They're fun, and they are both more than a little nice to look at. There's nothing wrong with that, right? I mean, Jasper would have no reason to be upset. Emmett is just a friend. But you, on the other hand . . . Edward definitely does _not_ want to be your friend."

"What?" I was baffled. "What the hell does that mean? Of course, we're friends."

"Yes, you're friends, but that man is also 100% in lust, Bella-whipped, love struck, whatever you want to call it. He looked like a puppy drooling over a bone named Bella all evening." She cackled crazily. "That's it, you're a Bella Bone."

I ignored her joke, solely focused on the idea that Edward might like me in _that_ way. "You think?" I smiled modestly. I had noticed a couple of things that made me think he might like me, but love struck? Nah, I wouldn't go that far.

"No, I don't _think_. I _know_. But we're getting off topic here. I confessed I wanted them to come with us, but _you_ have admitted nothing."

"Of course, I wanted them to come. That's why I invited them. And before you say anything about Operation Nun, this is just one day, okay?" I glanced at Alice cautiously, looking for approval. "I'm not dating him; I'm not getting into a relationship with him. We'll have a good time tomorrow and then that's it. Operation Nun, still intact."

"That's sounds perfectly logical to me, Bella. I'm with ya! A day in a castle with two Prince Charmings? Fuck, yes!"

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	5. Happily Ever After

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: Big, wet virtual kisses to my talented betas: Pickwicksociety, JenKB, and GuitarGirl. Your support means the world! Credit and thanks to Mel/mcc101180 and Itsange over at Project Team Beta for polishing this chapter up even more!**

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**Chapter 5 - Happily Ever After**

For a brief moment, I was torn between focusing on the scenic Bavarian landscape or the striking male specimen sitting next to me. The scenery from Munich to Neuschwanstein Castle was truly postcard-worthy. The distant snow-capped peaks appeared to sit atop the smaller grassy mountains, with quaint, red-roofed villages nestled beneath them, all framed by a cloudless blue sky. Sun rays beamed through, creating a brilliant disparity on patches of sparkling, snowy blankets intermingled with brittle winter grass. I appreciated its subtle splendor, but ultimately, the spectacularly picturesque Edward won out for my attention.

After we oohed and aahed together over the scenery, I turned my full attention to him as he began asking me questions.

"So Bella, I know you're from Phoenix, you enjoy literature, you're going to be a high school English teacher, and you are highly organized, but that's about it. What else should I know about you?" Edward raised his eyebrows up and down as if insinuating I might have some deep, dark secret to tell. Which I actually did–my divorce was something I tended to keep to myself.

"Well, I'm not sure. What do you want to know?" I pulled my legs up into the seat, hugging them protectively while looking at Edward who sat directly across from me.

"Everything." His expression and tone changed from lightheartedness to earnestness.

I held his serious gaze for a moment before a nervous giggle escaped. "Everything, huh? Hmmm . . . then I'd better start at the beginning."

I took a deep breath before beginning my tale in an overly dramatic tone. "I, Isabella Marie Swan, was born in Forks, Washington twenty-five years ago to Charlie and Renee Swan." I laughed, but Edward didn't.

"Go on," he said quietly.

I rolled my eyes. "Okay, if you say so. Well, I lived in Forks–which is a spot in the road that's continually covered by clouds and rain–until I was six."

Edward chuckled. "Yeah, it must be a spot in the road. I'm from Washington, and I've never heard of it."

"Oh, you have no idea. Population 3000! Anyway, my parents divorced when I was six. That's when I moved to Phoenix with my brother, Seth, and my mom. Dad stayed in Forks."

"Did you see much of your dad after that?" Edward's chiseled jaw rested on his open palm.

_Why does he care about my relationship with my father?_ I wondered. He was probably just trying to pass the time, yet he looked at me as though I was about to divulge the secret to eternal life. His seemingly genuine interest spurred me on.

"My brother and I spent every summer and every other Christmas with my dad. So I sort of have two hometowns, I guess."

"Did either of your parents remarry?"

"My mom married a great guy about five years ago. My dad never remarried." I bit my bottom lip, but this time it was a nervous reaction, not a calculated effort to entice. I was anxious, worrying that his questions might turn more personal, and my divorce was, in fact, my dirty little secret, at least in my mind. It was time to put the attention on Edward.

"What about your parents, your family?" I blurted.

Edward stood, removing his brown leather jacket. As he reached up to stuff it onto the overhead storage rack, his black U2 concert t-shirt lifted, revealing a patch of skin above his jeans' waistband. My eyes widened and my jaw went slack.

_Holy Christ crapping on a coconut cookie at Christmas! _

Edward was angled in a way that allowed me a view of his side and part of his stomach. Just when I thought I'd processed this man's beauty and its effects on me were coming down to normal levels, I discovered even more finger-lickin' goodness. I couldn't see his entire abdomen, but what I saw looked like a six-pack of muscular manliness. And he had this sexy-as-hell trail of dark hair descending below his belly button down to–oh, god, I could only imagine the goodness down there. I literally could not take my eyes off of his exposed skin. It was fortunate that he was turned away from me, unaware that my eyes were probably popping half out of my head like Roger Rabbit ogling Jessica Rabbit. As he turned to sit back down, he answered my question, which I had completely forgotten.

"I'm somewhat of an oddball. I was one of very few kids in my school whose parents were still married. Even more amazing, they're still married today." His eyes brightened as he talked about them. "I've lived in Seattle all my life, except when I went to college."

I quickly brought my lust-laden mind back to the conversation. "Where did you go to college?"

"Columbia in New York."

I cocked one eyebrow. "Oh, really? Nice!"

Edward smirked and lowered his eyes, as if embarrassed that he'd attended an Ivy League school.

Emmett and Alice's unrestrained guffaws and snorts coming from behind us interrupted my line of questioning. Clearly, they were enjoying each other's company. Edward and I exchanged a chuckle and eye roll at the audaciousness of our friends–they were seriously loud and drawing attention to themselves.

Refocusing, I continued. "Um, well, back to you. So do you have any siblings?"

"Just one. Rosalie is three years younger than me."

"Three years younger? So that means you are how old?"

"I'm twenty-eight."

"Good grief, Edward. You're practically middle-aged!" I said in jest but with a serious tone and expression. But Edward didn't laugh as I expected.

"You have no idea," he muttered. He rummaged his hand through his hair, sighing. "I _feel_ old." He finally smiled, but I didn't believe it. His lips turned upward, yet his eyes remained dim.

It was becoming clear to me that Edward was more than just a handsome, Ivy League-educated, twenty-eight year old bumming around Europe without a care in the world. There was a sadness about him, though it wasn't there continually. Generally, he appeared friendly, engaging, and jovial. But in the limited time I'd spent with him, I had already caught some glimpses of melancholy. He hid it so well that I was certain most people wouldn't pick up on it at all. Perhaps only two groups of people would even notice: those who knew him best and those who knew something about loss and grief. I was well acquainted with those emotions, so they were easy to recognize in others.

"Well, you don't _look_ old." I pushed my hair from my eyes, biting my lip. I felt unsure, but I had to say it. I wanted to make his smile reach his eyes. "You look . . . perfect."

I forced myself to look up because I just had to know if the compliment did its job. When our eyes met, he gave me a smile that brought his entire face to life. His eyes were bright and animated, and he let out a chuckle, shaking his head. He was embarrassed but clearly pleased with the flattery.

He finally managed to mumble, "Hardly," teasing me yet again with the hand-in-the-hair thing that he liked to do.

We continued talking nonstop throughout the hour long journey. Being with Edward was so natural; there was a déjà vu feeling about it. Interacting with him was comfortable and effortless, and yet, I also felt a little shy and anxious. It was a delicious dichotomy of comfort and tension, ease and anticipation–an intoxicating combination.

We arrived in Schwangau, the small village where the castle was located, and promptly bought tickets to take the tour. Though it was winter, the sun shone and the wind was quiet, which meant no teeth-chattering today for which I was grateful. Getting there took some doing as the castle was perched on a mountain. It seemed fitting that the mode of transportation up to the sprawling palace was on a horse-drawn wagon. I could almost visualize Prince Charming prancing on his white horse up the narrow road to his castle where Cinderella awaited him. After all, it was the one after which the Disney castle was patterned.

Seeing the white fortress become clearer and larger as we approached was absolutely awe-inspiring. I'd seen forests and trees before. I'd seen mountains, and I'd seen many lakes. I'd even seen other castles before. But I'd never before seen those natural creations adorn a man-made work of art so beautifully. Pictures of Neuschweinstein had failed to capture its vastness and magnificence.

"It's almost too much to process." I turned on my seat in the wagon, straining to take in a 360 degree view of my surroundings.

"It's amazing. I've never seen anything like it," Edward agreed. He seemed to be as awestruck as I was, and for the first time today, our eyes were not on each other. Alice and Emmett sat on the wagon seat in front of us, still chattering away endlessly.

Once we arrived at the castle, we were divided into small groups before beginning a guided tour of all the rooms. The interior of the castle was lovely, though it bordered on gaudy at times. Each room's decor was similar with large paintings and murals, intricate woodwork, rich fabrics, and gold detailing.

As we entered the dining room, I noticed something right away and nudged Edward with my elbow. "I want that! I love swans!" I whispered, pointing to a large swan figurine, sitting atop a mantle.

"You're kidding me?" Edward grinned. "Bella Swan loves swans?"

I playfully punched him in the arm. "I know," I whispered. "It's either very fitting or very strange–I'm not sure which. Living in England now, I see them everywhere. I love to watch them with their long, elegant necks and their white wings spread, gliding down upon the water for a graceful landing–it's mesmerizing. They're just so beautiful."

"Yeah? Well, then your name fits you perfectly." Edward smiled sheepishly, and I saw a tint of blush on his cheeks. Yeah, he freaking blushed, which made me blush. He just called me beautiful, I realized. We smiled goofily at each other, turning our attention back to the tour guide who was still speaking to the group.

He was an older gentleman, probably retired, with a German accent. He continually fed us interesting facts about the castle and its owner, King Ludwig II of Bavaria. The king had the castle constructed during the late 1800s, and he was known to be a little eccentric. I didn't need a tour guide to tell me that; it was obvious just from looking at the gaudy, over-the-top castle that the king had created. Our guide explained that Ludwig was engaged for a time, but he broke it off. He never did marry, living out his life alone in this immense palace without the fairytale ending.

As we entered another room, Alice poked me. "Bells, look, more swans." She pointed to a washstand with a fountain in the form of a silver-plated swan. Small swans decorated the water jug, sponge and soap containers. The detail was unbelievable.

"Oh, wow. They are everywhere. I so want this bedroom," I gushed, smiling.

Mr. Tour Guide cleared his throat and began speaking to the group again. "This was King Ludwig's bedroom. The state bed is in a neo-gothic style, and the curtains and seat coverings are blue silk, with embroidered and appliquéd lions, swans, crowns, lilies and the Bavarian coat of arms."

Edward mumbled in my ear, "That bed is a work of art. I can only imagine how long it took to construct."

He was right–the bed was freakin' amazing. Made of some type of dark wood, the canopy bed was carved in the most intricate way. It was draped with a bedspread and curtains in the blue silk that our tour guide had mentioned.

"It's remarkable! I wouldn't mind having a bed like that."

Emmett turned around, glaring at us. "Pssst. Zip it, will ya?"

I stuck my tongue out at him, causing Edward to cover his mouth, trying to suppress a laugh.

I tuned back into Mr. Tour Guide's spiel in time to hear him explain that the wall murals in the bedroom depicted the story of Tristan and Isolde.

"Okay, Literature Chick, do you know that story?" Edward mumbled. "I'm not familiar with it."

"Well, History Dude, as a matter of fact, I do know that story," I said quietly, with a teasing smirk. "The legend of Tristan and Isolde dates back to medieval times. Through the years, as it has been rewritten into plays and operas, the story has changed somewhat." We followed along with the tour group as I talked. So that he could hear my low voice, Edward walked very close to me, bent down slightly with his head near mine. His scent was distracting. He smelled so flippin' good–like soap and manliness.

"But the overall theme is about the sadness of lovers who can't be together. Isolde finds Tristan after he's injured in battle. During the time that she nurses him back to health, they fall in love. In another version, they are given a potion that causes them to fall in love. In every version, Isolde is betrothed to the king, Tristan's uncle. In the end, Tristan dies in battle and Isolde is devastated." I glanced up at Edward, but when he didn't say anything, I added, "Nice, huh?"

"Uh . . . yeah, not so much," Edward mumbled. There was no sarcasm in his voice; he sounded completely serious. And there it was again–that underlying sadness.

We continued on through the vast castle, taking in the visual beauty as well as the interesting details given by our guide. Shortly after giving Edward the Tristan and Isolde cliff notes, he became unusually quiet. There were no more elbows in my side, no more pointing out every swan that he saw, no more interaction at all. I was perplexed.

After a while, the physical distance between us grew. Somehow he ended up several feet in front of me, keeping to himself. Without knowing him better, I didn't know whether I should reach out to him or just let him be. So I chose the safest route–I hung back with Emmett and Alice.

As we followed the tour group through a long hallway, Emmett cleared his throat. "Bella, I don't have any idea what set Edward off, but I'm going to be completely straight with you, okay?"

I hadn't said anything to Emmett about Edward's change in disposition, but it was quite clear that Edward was no longer glued to my side. I nodded my head hesitantly, immediately nervous about what Emmett could possibly say.

"I hate to be so blunt, but it would be in your best interest if you kept things with Edward purely friendship."

I feigned ignorance with an innocent "I don't know what you're talking about," but Emmett didn't buy it. I felt exposed learning that Emmett had perceived my interest in Edward. _Had he said anything to Edward?_ I worried.

"Bella, anybody with eyes can see the chemistry between you two. Don't get me wrong. Edward is the best guy I know, but he wouldn't make the best boyfriend, at least not right now."

"That's fine," I stated defensively. "I'm not available anyway." I couldn't have him thinking that I was pining for Edward or that it mattered that much to me. My womanly pride was at stake.

Emmett raised a brow in surprise. "Oh? You have a man back in Phoenix?"

"Noooo," I said harshly, rolling my eyes. "I'm just not dating right now–out of choice." I glanced at Alice who was uncharacteristically quiet, but that didn't last long.

"You're being a bit cryptic, Emmett," Alice interjected, reading my mind.

"Why in the hell would Edward not be a good boyfriend?"

"He's dealing with a lot. Edward has . . . how shall I say it? He has issues." Emmett paused, choosing his words carefully. "Bella, did Edward happen to mention that he served in the Army for four years and fought in Iraq?"

"What?" I gasped. He'd told me about college but not one word about fighting in a fracking war. I was stunned.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Emmett mumbled irritably.

Without a word, Alice walked ahead of us, joining Edward. I could see her lips moving, but they were too far ahead to hear what she was saying to him.

"Bella, Edward endured things no human should ever experience. He saw friends die right in front of him, among other things. He really hasn't been the same in the past year since he came home. You've heard of PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder?"

I nodded my head slowly. "Yeah." A nauseating churning settled in my stomach.

As we entered the next room, we came to a stop. Emmett dropped his voice to a whisper as the tour guide began speaking. "I think he might have it, but I'm not certain. He has the biggest heart of anybody I know, but that war really fucked him up. Until he gets that shit together, he's really no good for anybody. And I think he knows that."

"Thanks for telling me, Emmett," I said sadly.

"You're welcome." Emmett paused, looking as if he had something else to say.

"What is it?"

"Um, well, since we're on the subject, any chance Alice is single?"

I wasn't surprised by the question, having picked up on that chemistry on day one. "You mean to tell me during all your conversations with her, you didn't ask?"

"Nope." Emmett grinned, shaking his head before letting out a sigh. "I suppose I didn't ask because I got the vibe from her that she's not available. Am I right?"

"Sorry, dude. Your instincts were right. She's got a serious boyfriend back home." I patted him comfortingly on the back.

"Damn it!" Emmett said dramatically. "She's really something else." He grinned widely. "She cracks me up all the time."

"Don't I know it! Why do you think I keep her around?"

We continued walking, mostly ignoring the tour guide but still taking in the beauty of the rooms. Alice and Edward walked together ahead of us.

"How long have you known Edward?"

"Pretty much forever. We met in kindergarten."

"That's so cool."

"Yeah, we're more like brothers really."

"I'm glad he has a good friend like you, especially . . . well, in light of what he's been through."

"He doesn't talk to me much about the war. Actually, he's only done it once. Somehow I got him to agree to let me interview him for a magazine article that I wrote about the medal for heroism he was awarded. The only reason he let me write it was to give recognition to his buddies who died."

"A medal?" I repeated, my mouth hanging open. "What did he do?" Was this man for real? I was already completely smitten with him, and now "hero" was added to the list of his remarkable attributes.

"That's probably a story for another time. He'd probably pummel me for even mentioning it to you."

"I understand. My lips are sealed," I whispered, dramatically miming the sealing of my lips.

Alice and Edward slowed, allowing us to catch up with them. Emmett and Alice began talking as they walked away from us, I suspect purposefully.

Edward smiled at me. "Did you endure Emmett's constant immaturity?"

"Um, yeah, I'm kind of used to it . . . with Alice. Those two are either long-lost twins or soul mates."

Edward was his usual playful and interactive self for the rest of the tour. Neither of us mentioned his obvious emotional withdrawal. It now made sense to me why he had shut down after hearing the story of Tristan and Isolde. Tristan injured in battle . . . falls in love with Isolde . . . Tristan dies. Did Edward's friends who died in Iraq have a lover at home who was devastated at the loss, like Isolde?

Emmett's divulgence of Edward's post-war trauma and his opinion that Edward wouldn't make a good boyfriend did not scare me in the least. So he had some emotional issues from fighting in a war–who the freak wouldn't? I'd be more concerned if he was _not_ affected by what he experienced in Iraq. And doesn't everyone have some kind of emotional baggage from their childhood or past relationships?

Regardless, since my talk with Emmett, one thing had become certain. Today would be the last time I would see Edward. Even if I was tempted to end my ban on men for Edward–which I definitely was–I was fairly sure he wasn't interested in starting a romantic relationship. Emmett's warnings about Edward's emotional state didn't deter me, but his comment that Edward himself knew he was not boyfriend material did. _And I think Edward knows it_, Emmett had said. That had been on a loop running through my mind ever since. There was no way around it–neither of us was in the right place to start a relationship. Tonight would certainly be goodbye. It seemed that, along with King Ludwig, I would not have my happily ever after, at least not with Edward.

* * *

**_A/N: To see pictures that accompany each chapter, including this one, visit one of the following:_**

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	6. My Best Mistake

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: To my small but steadily growing readership: I can't begin to tell you how much your reviews mean to me. Your kind words and encouragement have motivated me to keep going. Keep 'em coming!**

**As ever, my gratitude goes to my betas, Pickwicksociety, JenKB, and GuitarGirl. I adore you all!** **Credit and thanks to Mel/mcc101180 over at Project Team Beta for polishing this chapter up even more!**

* * *

**Chapter 6 – My Best Mistake**

"This is the best goddamn bratwurst," Emmett announced, in between big bites.

"Everything tastes better when you're starving." I smiled. "A dry biscuit suddenly tastes as good as filet mignon."

"That's very true. Doing without changes your perspective," Edward said seriously.

"No, this really _is_ the best bratwurst ever," Emmett contended. "I'm not fucking kidding." He looked around the table with a straight face, apparently waiting for someone to challenge him further.

Everybody, including Edward, broke out laughing at Emmett's eager appreciation for his food.

All of us continued enthusiastically enjoying our meals–we were famished. We'd grabbed a quick sandwich after touring the castle, but it hadn't been very filling. After returning to Munich, we'd agreed to freshen up at our respective hotels and then meet up at Hofbräuhaus again for dinner.

Walking through the restaurant to our table, I had gotten a better look at the band. The musicians were dressed traditionally. It was quite amusing to see grown men dressed like little German boys: brown shoes, tan knee socks, brown shorts and vest, and underneath, a white button-up shirt. They looked like they were ready for their first day at pre-school. Alice and I had given each other a knowing glance, chuckling quietly as we passed the Oompah band members.

Hofbräuhaus wasn't as crowded as it had been last night, so we had a table to ourselves. Edward sat across from me, which I preferred over sitting beside him. This way I could frequently look at him without being obvious.

I took another bite of the "best goddamn bratwurst" on my plate before casually glancing up at Edward. His eyes were already on me as he lowered his beer mug from his mouth. Some of the liquid amber remained behind, glistening on his lips. At that moment, everything disappeared from my view except his full, red, beer-coated lips. I took a few seconds, in my vivid imagination, to lean across the table and cover his mouth with mine, licking the beer from his bottom lip, and then sucking it gently into my mouth.

_Oh, lordy, how sweet that would be._

I quickly looked back down at my food, worrying that my momentary lust fest was written all over my face for Edward to see. After all, he'd been looking right at me while I sucked on his lip in my sex-deprived mind. _Of course, he knows_, I thought, both pleased and embarrassed at the notion.

"Bella?" His voice was silky soft yet still masculine.

Sheepishly, I looked up at him.

"You okay?" he asked.

Emmett and Alice were chatting nonstop about something; I heard chattering noise that must have been words, but they held no meaning to me.

"Um, yeah, sure." I smiled, hoping I was convincing.

Emmett interrupted with his bellowing, jovial voice. "Bella, are you with me and Edward on this? Please tell me you're not as musically-deprived as Alice." He shot her a panty-melting, dimpled smile and a wink. Her panties, not mine, I thought when I glimpsed the giddiness etched across her features.

I had no idea what Emmett was talking about, but I was too embarrassed to confess I had zoned out. I wasn't sure if it was my blank expression that gave me away or if Edward was aware I'd been lost in the ogling of his lips, but somehow he knew I needed help.

"Yes, Bella, please tell us that you recognize the Beatles as the greatest band in the history of bands." Edward smiled that alluring half-smile before shoveling in a bite of German-style potato salad.

"Uh, well, sorry to disappoint, but I wouldn't go that far. I like a few of their songs, but I've never really listened to much of their stuff."

"Are you kidding me?" Emmett scoffed. "Hell, you girls don't know what you're missing. You are most definitely musically-deprived."

Alice would have none of that. "Bullshit, Emmett. I am so not musically-deprived, fuck you very much!"

That began a good-natured back and forth between Alice and Emmett, arguing the merits of The Beatles versus Alice's favorite bands, Queen and U2. She didn't dislike the Beatles; she just didn't agree they were the greatest band ever. Plus, she was a skilled debater and always welcomed a good verbal sparring. Edward and I quietly observed their entertaining banter for a moment before I asked Edward to enlighten me as to why the Beatles were deserving of his and Emmett's undying devotion.

"If you've heard only a few of their songs, you can't really appreciate their musical genius," Edward explained. "Many musicians and bands sound the same on every album–their songs are very similar. But the Beatles repertoire is so varied and diverse that you'd swear that it couldn't all have come from the same band. That's just one reason they are the greatest band ever. I could go on."

"So go on," I urged with a playful smile.

"Okay," he agreed without hesitancy. "Let's see–it all began when I was twelve years old. My parents had a few of their albums." He pushed his empty plate to the side and leaned back in his chair, locking both hands behind his head. "I was bored one day, so I put on one of the albums. I remember lying on my bed, kind of losing myself in the music. I had never been emotionally moved by a song before." He paused a moment as he placed his arms on the table and leaned toward me. "What kind of music moves you, Bella?"

"I was probably around the same age, maybe eleven or twelve, I think. My mom would make me watch musicals with her. I fell in love with Barbra Streisand in _Funny Girl_. She was funny, quirky, and her voice gave me chills. So I started listening to her albums. I was discovering boys at that time, so I really appreciated all of the gooey, love songs she sang." We both chuckled at my somewhat embarrassing admission.

"And now?"

"And now I like everything from Beethoven to Muse to My Chemical Romance to Billy Joel. There are so many."

Edward's gaze never left mine, appearing to hang onto my words as though they were manna from heaven. "Muse is phenomenal. And Billy Joel is even better live than on his albums; he's an amazing performer."

My face fell. "What? You saw Billy Joel in concert? Oh, my, god! I would give my firstborn child to see Billy Joel and Elton John in concert together."

Edward grinned. "Unfortunately, I doubt they'll perform together again, but maybe you'll still get a chance to see them separately. I try to go to as many concerts of my favorite musicians as I can. With live music you can get a type of high from the energy, both the energy from the performer and from the crowd. You can see and feel the musician's personality and passion for the music. You don't usually get any of that listening to a recording."

"That's true, but buying the CD is a hell of a lot cheaper than buying a concert ticket. That's usually what keeps me from going to more concerts."

Edward's relaxed demeanor suddenly changed to . . . embarrassment? Self-consciousness? I wasn't sure. "I didn't think about that," he mumbled. "Sorry."

Before I could inquire as to what he was sorry for exactly, Emmett interrupted, "Hey, guys, another beer?"

Our waitress had appeared from nowhere and was staring at us, waiting for our reply. Edward and I both said we were fine, while Emmett and Alice opted for another round.

Once the waitress left, Emmett asked Alice and me how much longer we would be in England for our student teaching. I explained that after this week of traveling we would teach for another two weeks, and then we'd travel for a few more days before returning to Phoenix. Alice explained that we'd complete our student teaching in Phoenix, each graduating with a teaching degree in May.

Edward listened quietly whereas Emmett was full of questions, one of which was where exactly we were living in England. I told him that we've had the extreme pleasure–_cough, cough_–of staying in the dorms at the University of Brighton at Falmer, which is a small town north of Brighton.

Alice elaborated as she grumbled about college dorm life, which was a new experience for both of us. Back home, Alice and I shared a house together, away from the craziness for which ASU is famous. Alice regaled them with vivid comical descriptions of our musty, tiny dorm rooms, and worst of all, the college cafeteria food.

"While most cafeteria food is disgusting, British cafeteria food is in a completely different category of repulsive," she clarified.

Alice wasn't kidding about this just to get a laugh; she was completely serious, unfortunately. There was a reason my jeans had begun to hang a little looser recently; I would starve before I'd ingest half of what was on my cafeteria tray each day. Most of the time the only thing edible were the French fries, or "chips" in British speak. After Alice's diatribe of the horrors of British cafeteria food and the laughter had subsided, Emmett changed the subject.

"What's on your itinerary tomorrow, ladies?"

"Actually, '_what's on our itinerary __**tonight'**_ would be more accurate," I said.

Edward found his voice. "Tonight?" he repeated, his eyebrows raised.

"Yep, we leave Munich tonight at 12:30 on a sleeper train. We'll wake up in Florence, Italy!" Alice squealed excitedly.

And with those pointed words–_we leave Munich tonight_–the bubble of bliss I was floating on deflated. The thought of leaving Edward again felt inherently wrong. As much fun as Alice and I had traveling together, being with Edward at the castle, discussing history, literature and architecture, was invigorating and comfortable. We enjoyed a give and take of knowledge and interpretation; he often saw things differently than me, which I appreciated immensely. Though our time together at the Louvre had been brief, his presence made it a richer experience. Without him, the Winged Victory of Samothrace statue would have just been a weird statue with no arms or head. Because of Edward I knew she was the Greek goddess, Nike, and dated back to B.C. times. But more than just dates and names, it was the childlike excitement in Edward that enhanced my experience. My heart smiled as I pulled the image of Edward from my memory; I could still clearly see the glow in his eyes as told us about the ancient statue.

While everyone discussed all things Italian in anticipation of our visit to Florence, I contemplated inviting Edward and Emmett to come with us. It was what my heart wanted, but my mind bullied my heart into a corner, arguing in favor of safety and control. My heart acquiesced, confessing that if I spent any more time with Edward, I would, without doubt, fall utterly and irrevocably in love with him. This could only bring me heartache.

Edward and I had completely different lives in different states. Though Edward's apparent "issues" didn't scare me, failing at Operation Nun did. I had already failed at marriage, and then I failed again after my divorce by making poor dating choices. If I was unsuccessful in keeping my promise to myself to not get romantically involved for a year, it would come with the cost of losing a bit of my self-esteem that I had tirelessly worked to rebuild.

I had a few more hours I could spend with Edward before we needed to return to the hotel to get our luggage and catch the night train. But with the realization that our time was rapidly coming to an end, came a desperate need to get away from him immediately. Within just a few minutes, being with Edward had transformed from warm, blissful happiness to cold, despondent melancholy. Hearing his voice, his laughter, my body tingling in response to his beauty, feeling his eyes on me–it was akin to setting a gourmet meal in front of a starving person but denying her the needed nourishment. Edward's presence had become uncomfortable, and I wasn't certain I could conceal the change in my temperament. I had always been a "heart on my sleeve" kind of gal; I needed to say good-bye right away. I'd rip the band-aid off in one fell swoop rather than drawing out the pain with a long goodbye.

I leaned over to Alice, whispering that I wanted to go back to the hotel. She gave me a pointed look, whispering back that she was absolutely not leaving yet.

_Geez, thanks for nothing, BFF!_

I stood up from the bench, pulling on my coat. "I don't want to break up the fun, but I'm going to head back to the hotel. A headache has crept up on me, and I'd like to rest before going to the train station." I looked at Alice. "Can you take care of my bill, and I'll pay you back later?"

"Of course, Bella."

Edward stood up quickly. "I'll walk you to your hotel."

Shit! My escape plan was backfiring. "No, you don't have to do that. I really don't want to interrupt everyone's fun."

"Bella, I insist," Edward spoke seriously. "I'm not going to let you walk around a strange city by yourself at night." He pulled on his leather jacket, removed his wallet from his jeans pocket, and threw some cash on the table.

"Well, if you put it that way, okay then," I replied with a small smile while digging my gloves out of my coat pockets. I believed that if I spent any more time with him, I'd be sucked into the abyss of heartbreak, but I couldn't refuse him without appearing rude.

We said our goodbyes to Emmett and Alice, and as we left Hofbräuhaus, I gave myself a mental pep talk to "put on a happy face" and enjoy my last few moments with Edward. I wrapped my scarf around my neck and folded my arms into my body for warmth. The sun had long since gone, taking its warming rays and leaving behind a wintry, moonless night.

"Do you have anything to take for your headache?" Edward asked.

"Uh, yeah, in my hotel room." I felt a tinge of guilt about my nonexistent headache, but I was, in fact, not feeling well, so it wasn't a complete fabrication. My chest quite literally ached, and my stomach twisted in anticipation of saying goodbye to him.

My hotel was a ten minute walk from the restaurant; the first minute or two of the journey was filled with silence. Though the stillness was comfortable and natural, I couldn't help but wonder what Edward was thinking. Now more than ever, I coveted the vampiric power of mind reading that one of my favorite literary characters possessed. Seeing into Edward's mind would provide me with the ultimate safeguard for my heart. I would furiously scan and analyze the brain in that beautiful head of his to find the answers I needed. _Did his war experiences damage him to the point that he's now incapable of connecting on an intimate level with anybody? Is he a manwhore with no desire to commit to one woman? Is he as drawn to me as I am to him?_ He didn't seem to be any of those things, but I really had no idea considering I'd spent less than eighteen hours total with him.

If nothing else, Jacob's abandonment of me and our marriage had taught me that people are not always what they seem. Before marrying him, I had absolutely believed that Jacob was as committed to the institution of marriage as I was. He had examples of "staying the course" all around him as his parents and grandparents were still together after decades of marriage. So when he walked out on me without a willingness to go to marriage counseling, it became apparent that what he presented on the outside did not match his true character. Telepathic powers would have come in quite handy while dating Jacob, as well as now with Edward.

Breaking through the stillness of the night, Edward attempted to get inside my head as well. "Bella, I'm curious as to why you've chosen teaching as a career. It certainly is a noble profession, but teachers are grossly underpaid, and it can't be easy dealing with teenagers on a daily basis."

"You go first," I retorted with a mischievous grin.

He scrunched up his face in confusion. "I don't follow."

"I'll tell you about my career choice, if you tell me about yours. All I know is that you worked for your family's company, but you're currently taking a break."

"Um, yeah, that's right." He looked straight ahead. I waited through the pregnant pause for him to gather his thoughts as it was apparent that, once again, this wasn't his favorite subject. "My family owns Cullen Industries, Inc. It's an international company based in Seattle. I oversaw the Mergers and Acquisitions Division."

"Mergers and acquisitions? Is that as cutthroat as the movies make it out to be? Swooping in and stealing somebody's company and all?" I joked.

Edward chuckled. "Yeah, it can be pretty brutal sometimes, but I try my best to handle all my business dealings with integrity."

"Do you enjoy that type of work?" I pushed further.

Edward didn't answer immediately, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets and sighing. "Well, I used to love my job, but recently, not so much."

And just as he'd done so skillfully during other conversations, Edward changed the subject before I could dig any deeper into his psyche. "Do you enjoy _your_ work? I mean, I know you're not officially a teacher yet, but you are student teaching now, right?"

"Yes, I do enjoy it. Teaching English gives me the best of two worlds. I get to selfishly indulge my love for literature while at the same time unselfishly give something to the world by hopefully influencing children for good. I love it!"

"I'm glad to hear that." Edward's eyes met mine. "So, Miss Swan, how old were you when you discovered the wonderful world of books? Did a teacher influence you to read the classics?"

Now it was my turn to be evasive. I quickly looked away as I felt myself closing down, wanting to avoid my least favorite subject–my mom. As I raised my eyes to meet his, they were warm, deep, pools of jade, and I was floating, warmed by the chemistry that intensified whenever we held eye contact. The energy flowing between us was some kind of weird truth serum, urging me to respect the connection between us with my honesty.

"No, not a teacher. Circumstance brought books into my life, I suppose."

His silence coupled with the gentle urging of his eyes compelled me on.

"Reading was an escape from real life for me. Some kids turn to drugs or sex or both. Me? I became addicted to books."

Edward asked in a near whisper, "What were you escaping from, Bella?"

"My mom. She really did the best she could, and she's a wonderful person . . . when she's well. But that's the thing–I didn't know from one day to the next whether she would be loving and sweet or cussing me out or rolled into a ball in the corner of the bathroom crying for hours." I cleared my throat. "She's mentally ill. I know that now, but I didn't understand that as a child."

"I'm so sorry," Edward offered quietly.

"It's okay." I glanced up at him briefly, smiling. "Mr. Dickens, Ms. Austen, and Mr. Wordsworth, among many others, saved me. You can't read Dickens' stories without thinking how good you've got it compared to some of his characters!" I giggled, releasing the seriousness from the air.

But the heaviness in my chest returned when I saw that my hotel was just around the corner. My time with Edward was almost over.

As we approached the door of my hotel room, acting on instinct–or maybe hormones–rather than logic, I blurted without thinking, "Do you want to come in for a while?"

I felt like a junkie trying to say walk away from my heroin. Just fifteen minutes ago, I'd found the strength to walk away from him, intending to leave him behind at the restaurant. But he hadn't let me; he'd insisted on coming with me. I was sucked right back into the vicious cycle of addiction, again losing my resolve. Now I wanted more; I wanted him. This wouldn't violate Operation Nun because I wouldn't see him again. I wasn't going to have sex with him for Pete's sake. I couldn't fathom having that kind of intimacy with somebody and never seeing them again. But there were intimacies besides sex that I ached for with this man–time with him, being in his presence, talking with him, kissing him, touching him, feeling his hands on me.

He paused for a few seconds, glancing down, then raised his head and looked me right in the eyes. "No. Um, no, thank you. I really shouldn't."

I was mortified, entirely freaking mortified. How could I have misinterpreted what seemed to be between us? I wanted to melt into a puddle like the wicked witch of the west and ooze under the door, hiding myself so I could wallow in a vat of rejection. _Shit! I thought I was over my rejection issues_.

"Oh. Um, I'm sorry," I stammered, turning away from Edward and fumbling with my key card. "My mistake."

"Bella." Edward's voice was almost a whisper, but I heard it clearly.

"Mmmm?" I inserted the key card, but I was met with more rejection in the form of a flashing red light.

"Bella." Edward's tone was still gentle but more insistent. And then his massive hand was on my shoulder, physically forcing me to turn and face him. He grasped both of my shoulders, holding me in place. I had never been so physically close to him before. The heat radiating from his body sent a shiver throughout my own.

"Bella, please, don't apologize. I said I _shouldn't_, not that I didn't _want_ to." He paused, removing one hand from my shoulder, and lifted my chin up until our eyes met. "Bella, you are a remarkable woman. It's just . . . if I came in . . . well, you deserve more than just that. More than I have to give."

His face was within inches of mine, his warm breath teasingly intoxicating. I was rendered mute as the invisible yet palpable energy pulsed between us. There was nothing for me to say because in that moment of silence, as we gazed into each other's eyes, I knew as surely as if he had verbally announced it, that he was going to kiss me. He cradled my face in his beautiful hands, and then slowly–oh so exquisitely slowly–he leaned down until his lips were mere millimeters from mine, his breath taunting them. My eyes fluttered shut as my breathing became shallow and rapid. The anticipation was maddeningly delicious, and just when I thought I would drop into a mass of quivering nerves and need on the floor, his lips melted into mine. Edward's lips were soft, red velvet. They pressed against mine tenderly before slightly parting and surrounding my bottom lip, gently sucking it into his mouth, his warm tongue softly gliding over it.

An involuntary whimper escaped me as I brought my dangling hands up from my side and wrapped them around his waist. Edward's hand left my cheek and moved to my hair, weaving his long fingers through it. _Oh god, that feels good._

I deepened the kiss, opening my mouth to his and rubbing my hands up and down his back, feeling the definition of his muscles. Our tongues danced around each other, ever so slightly touching as they shared the space in our joined mouths. I sucked his lip between my teeth, caressing it with my tongue. _Mmm, so good_.

Edward gently pulled his mouth from mine and gave me a small smile. He took a step back, withdrawing his hands from my face. As he did so, his smile evaporated. He took a deep breath, exhaling it all in a sigh.

Then he said the words that I knew were coming. "Good-bye, Bella."

I heard my voice involuntarily shake with emotion. "Good-bye, Edward."

As soon as the words left my lips, he turned, rapidly walking away. Though every cell in my body revolted as our merged energy dissipated with every step he took, I didn't try to stop him. I didn't beg him to stay. I didn't even offer him my phone number and ask if we could stay in touch. I understood Edward.

I didn't know his reasons for having nothing more to offer me, but I understood why he kissed me knowing he would then say goodbye, permanently. It was the same reason I'd invited him into my hotel room. _Because_ it was our last night together, it was safe. With an impending goodbye, there would be no expectation for something more, for something neither of us had to give. And he kissed me so I would know that this indescribable connection between us wasn't a figment of my imagination. And he kissed me because something was better than nothing. We understood each other perfectly.

* * *

**A/N: Ducking and backing out of the room. Please don't throw things at me for cockblocking. It has to be this way . . . for now. Edward is a mystery, but this I will tell you. He is NOT open to a relationship right now and that is why he did not ask Bella if they could keep in touch. He has his reasons. Never fear! This is an HEA, after all.**

**_To see pictures that accompany each chapter, including this one, visit one of the following:_**

**_Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. _**

**_For photos and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL - _**

**_ /groups/281151482005898/_**

**_Then request to be added to the group. _**


	7. Naked Perfection

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: Lots of virtual love and affection to my smart-as-hell betas: Pickwicksociety, JenKB, and GuitarGirl! ** **Credit and thanks to Mel/mcc101180 over at Project Team Beta for polishing this chapter up even more!**

* * *

**Chapter 7 – Naked Perfection**

Hovering in that magical space between sleep and consciousness, I turned onto my side, struggling to find a comfortable position. However, rolling over on a cot so narrow that only a skinny-ass like Kate Moss would comfortably fit took so much physical effort, I was unwillingly pulled from my restless slumber. _And they call this a sleeper train? I think not._

I finished changing positions, getting as comfortable as I could and tried to go back to sleep. I pulled the threadbare blanket up to my neck and–w_hat the hell is that_? It sounded like a frackin' cat was in my sleeper compartment. It wasn't a classic cat meow but rather a high-pitched mewling coming from below. I hung my head down to find the source. Some chick sleeping below me was emitting little cat snores.

I glanced over at Alice. She was asleep in the top bunk across from me and appeared to be unaffected by Kitty Galore. I looked at my wristwatch, wondering if it was even worth it to try to get back to sleep. Squinting, I barely made out the numbers, but I determined that we were due to arrive in Florence in a little over an hour.

I pulled the cracker-thin pillow over my head, attempting to suffocate the kitty snores as well as my inner turmoil. Ever since Alice had returned to our hotel room after hanging out with Emmett at Hofbräuhaus, I'd been a living, breathing paradox of conflicting emotions. When she'd happily informed me that she had invited the guys to come to Florence with us, I simultaneously wanted to slap the shit out of her and kiss her after jumping up and down with glee. I didn't do either. Instead, I lashed out verbally.

"What the fuck were you thinking, Alice?" I chided, feeling panic take over my usually calm temperament.

Alice's eyes widened. Raising one eyebrow in bewilderment, she retorted, "I was fucking thinking that since we both had such a fucktastic time with them yesterday that we should continue the fucking fun in Florence."

We gaped at each other in silence. Alice continued staring at me, but the jumble of emotions inside left me unable to verbalize everything flitting around in my crazy brain. I let out a heavy sigh, attempting to release the anxiety in my chest, and dramatically plopped myself onto the bed. Resting my elbows on my knees, I leaned over and buried my face in my hands, murmuring to myself, "Ohh, god."

"Bella?" Alice was at my side, rubbing my back. "What's going on? You're kind of freaking me out here. Did something happen with Edward when he walked you to the hotel?"

Still leaning over, hiding, my hair falling over me protectively, I squeaked out a quiet, "Yes."

"Okay, Bella, let me repeat–you are freaking me the fuck out, so start talking."

Before I could formulate an answer, Alice left my side. With my gaze on the floor, I could see she had begun pacing in front of me.

"If Mr. GQ did anything to you, I fucking swear to the gods of genitalia I will find him right now and twist his fucking balls like a vice grip!"

Jumping to my feet, I grabbed her by the shoulders, halting her frenzied pacing. "Oh, god, I'm sorry, Alice. No, it was nothing like what you're thinking. Edward was a complete gentleman."

I retreated to the bed and fell onto my back, my arms spread like wings. "In fact, he was too much of a gentleman for my liking. But now, knowing I'm going to see him again, I'm glad that he was."

Alice crawled onto the bed, pulling her legs into a criss-cross and stared down at me. "Stop speaking goddamn Greek, and tell me why you are so upset."

I took in a deep breath and began relating to Alice how I'd invited Edward into my hotel room, only to have him turn me down. She began chastising me for violating Operation Nun, so I explained my rationale that one night of makey-outey with somebody I'd never see again did not violate Operation Nun. This appeased her, so I continued, describing how I'd felt embarrassed and rejected when Edward turned down my invitation, and how I thought I had misinterpreted the chemistry between us, only to have him then give me the single most amazing, feel-it-down-to-your-toes, life-changing kiss before he said good-bye.

Alice scrunched up her face, scratching her head as if in deep thought. "Call me a fuckwad, but I'm lost here. You got the best kiss of your life from the most beautiful man in the world–in your opinion, that is–and you are upset? Come again, please."

I pushed myself up onto my elbows in exasperation. "Alice, I wouldn't have kissed him had I known I was going to spend two days in Florence with him! I was already struggling to rein in my feelings for him, but now . . . damn it."

Turning to my side, I pulled my legs up to my chest, seeking comfort in the old standby fetal position. "Now, having those feelings validated with that kiss . . . oh, god," I groaned. "Alice, there was feeling in that kiss. It wasn't just lust. It was actually a fairly chaste kiss, but it set me on fire. I don't know how I'm going to control my feelings now. Being around him will be like throwing lighter fluid on the flame."

Alice affectionately twirled my long hair around her finger. "And you feel you have to smother the flame or Operation Nun will be in peril." It was a statement, not a question, so I didn't respond.

"Bella, I get that you don't want to break the promise you made to yourself. But you've gone eight fucking months living as a nun. Hell, you should be given a medal just for that! So what if you don't make it the whole twelve months. You said yourself that you believe you've healed during that time, which was the whole fucking point. So, mission accomplished."

I sat up, turning to face her. "I don't know, Alice. I just feel like I'd be giving in or giving up or failing or something horrible like that."

"Sweetie, that's your freakish need to control everything that is speaking."

I rolled my eyes at her disapprovingly before my gaze wandered to the moonlight shining through the hotel window.

She took my hands in hers, speaking kindly, yet matter-of-factly. "Listen, all I'm saying is maybe try not to be so rigid about how you think things should be and about Operation Nun. We _are_ going to be with the guys for two days, so you might as well just let go, and enjoy your time with Edward."

Her advice echoed repeatedly in my mind as I pulled the pillow from my face and gazed at Alice still sleeping peacefully in our cramped sleeper compartment. The mewling coming from the cot below mingled with the low hum of the train was my soundtrack as I remembered seeing Edward on the train platform just a couple of hours after our goodbye kiss.

"Just go with the flow," Alice had urged as we approached the guys.

Edward had tried to dispel the uneasiness with humor. "Well, fancy meeting you here, Miss Swan. Are you stalking me again?" he teased.

"Ah, so that's how you're going to play it, huh?" I folded my arms, nodding my head. "The stalker accuses the stalkee of the crime so as to deflect attention from himself. Clever!"

Edward grinned, winking at me. The conversation between the four of us then turned to our itinerary for Florence. We'd hung out on the platform for about ten minutes before boarding the train. I had breathed a sigh of relief when I learned that Edward and Emmett would not be sharing a sleeping compartment with us. I knew I'd never be able to relax enough to sleep with Edward so close to me. The energy I always felt around him would be like constant volts of electricity keeping me alert and awake. As it was, even without Edward in my compartment, I'd had difficulty getting to sleep and staying asleep. My brain just wouldn't turn off, and now as morning approached, I was exhausted.

Glancing at my watch again, I was relieved to see we were due to arrive in Florence in thirty minutes. I quietly scurried out of the bunk, grabbing my toothbrush and hairbrush that I'd set out the night before. I slipped on my shoes and quietly squeezed through the door. Once I'd freshened up in the bathroom, I returned to find everybody in my compartment awake and gathering their luggage.

"You look like shit, Bella," Alice greeted me. I knew she was only being honest–I had just looked in the mirror in the bathroom–but that didn't mean I wanted to hear it.

"Tell me something I don't know, smartass. I'm tired and cranky. You've been warned."

"I'm sorry, Bells. You didn't sleep well?"

"How could I possibly sleep well on that tiny thing?" I whined, motioning to one of the beds.

Alice shrugged her shoulders. "I slept great. I was snug as a bug in a rug," she announced, way too cheerfully for my liking.

"Yeah, that bed is about the size of a bug's bed, all right," I grumbled.

Alice laughed, excusing herself to the bathroom. I pulled my luggage out of the compartment into the narrow hallway, tossing my coat on top, and took my iPod out of my backpack. Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes, immediately relaxing as Beethoven's "Moonlight Sonata" wafted through my earbuds.

"Pure bliss," I mumbled to myself. Sighing, I felt a smile turning the corners of my lips upward. Forget the Beatles–Beethoven was a freakin' genius. I relaxed so much that as the song neared its end, it occurred to me that I should open my eyes, or I just might fall asleep standing up.

"Oh, shit!" I gasped, pulling out my earbuds. "Edward, you scared the hell out of me."

I had opened my eyes to see Edward standing right the freak in front of me, in my personal space, and staring at me.

He bent over, slapping his leg, and let out the biggest belly laugh I'd yet to hear from him.

"You punk!" I punched him in the arm, trying to suppress my smile but failing. "It's not flipping funny."

But I discovered very quickly that it was impossible not to laugh when Edward was laughing. His hearty guffaws, along with the light in his eyes, were infectious, utterly contagious, and I found myself giggling along with him.

"Well, at least I'm awake now." I smirked, rolling my eyes at him. "Screw the coffee I was jonesing for–I don't need it now."

Edward let out one final snicker, followed by a big sigh. "Whew! I'd say I'm sorry, but actually, that was quite refreshing, not to mention amusing."

"Well, Mr. Cullen, I'm so happy I could entertain you." My voice dripped sarcasm. "Please let me know if I can suffer heart failure in the future to accommodate your sick ideas of amusement."

Edward chuckled again but then his tone turned serious. "Bella, please . . . _don't_ tease me."

Before I could contemplate the meaning of his comment, Alice and Emmett approached with curious expressions.

"What the hell is so funny, you two?" Emmett grinned.

Edward was only too happy to relate everything, down to describing how high I'd jumped when I opened my eyes to find him inches from my face.

I was saved from too much teasing by Emmett when the train began slowing as we approached the station in Florence. Within a few minutes, we made our way off the train and through the station.

As we exited the building, a cool, refreshing breeze caressed my face. The sun was shining, the sky clear, and the air was warmer than Munich, thanks to being further south. As we began the short walk to our hotel, I instantly fell in love with Florence.

It seemed as though the train station we'd just walked through was some kind of time machine, transporting us to a few hundred years ago. The buildings appeared to be ancient, many of them brown stucco or stone, but every so often a burst of gold shone from a building façade. The streets were completely foreign to me, looking nothing like roads in Phoenix. They were paved with cobblestones and were extremely narrow, which accounted for the hundreds of mopeds and little munchkin cars buzzing through the streets. The juxtaposition of the old buildings and cobblestone streets with the modern mopeds and cars made me smile.

"Are you sure you don't need that coffee you mentioned, Bella?" Edward snickered, pointing to a bakery across the street.

"Well, since my heart palpitations seem to have come down to normal levels and considering I barely slept, I would kill for a cup of coffee."

Emmett agreed. "A cup of fucking joe is just what I need. I slept like shit, too."

Crossing the street, he glanced back at me as we followed behind. "Bella, I'm beginning to question your itinerary planning skills. I will never take a night train ever again!" He grinned to soften the complaint.

"Hey, I can admit when I make a mistake, and that sleeper train was a big one."

We approached the counter to order, but Edward stepped in front of us. "My treat, guys. Go ahead and order, and I'll take care of it."

Alice protested. "Edward, thank you, but you don't–"

"C'mon, Alice, let me get this. It will make me feel better for scaring the shit out of Bella earlier." He glanced over at me and winked.

My stomach flip-flopped, reminiscent of the tummy tickle that roller coasters always give me. I thought his crooked smile was panty melting, but his winking prowess might just give his smirk a run for its money. I wondered if he had any idea of the power of an Edward Cullen wink.

Alice and I accepted Edward's kind gesture, and we quickly found our way to the hotel with coffee in hand. We couldn't check in until later in the day, but thankfully, they allowed us to leave our luggage with the bellhop. Everybody left coats behind, opting for lighter jackets.

The first stop on our itinerary was arguably the most famous tourist attraction in Florence–the Duomo. As we walked, I explained that the actual name of the cathedral was Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore, but mostly it was referred to as the Duomo, a generic Italian term for cathedral.

Edward, ever the history buff, wanted to know when the cathedral was built. I read to them from my guidebook explaining that construction began in 1296 and was completed in 1436 in the Gothic style. The exterior of the basilica was faced with polychrome marble panels in various shades of green and pink bordered by white.

"Did you say green and pink, Bella? Seriously?" Emmett grimaced.

"This I've gotta see," Alice interjected. "We have some pink, green, and even purple houses in Phoenix, but I can't imagine a cathedral like that."

Edward chuckled. "I can't say that I have ever seen a purple structure of any kind, thank god."

"Who in the hell would paint their house purple or pink?" Emmett questioned Alice.

"Oh, well, ya know, it's part of the prevalent Mexican culture in Phoenix, to paint houses in very happy, bright colors. It's not my thing, but whatever makes you happy, I guess."

"Holy hell, guys!" I stopped in my tracks, causing Alice to slam into my back, but I didn't care, my entire focus on the sight up ahead. "That's it. That's the Duomo."

Everybody halted, following my gaze to the end of the street where just a portion of the Duomo peeked out. The red dome, sitting atop the Duomo, was like a beckoning flare, guiding us to its gothic beauty.

"Ya can't miss that sucker, can you?" Emmett asked rhetorically.

We picked up our pace, eager to see the Duomo in its entirety. Within minutes, we entered Piazza del Duomo–which sounds really fancy but just means plaza–where the cathedral stood in all its ancient pink and green splendor. The first one to break the silence as we gaped at the structure was Edward.

"Huh. I take it back. I never thought I'd say this, but pink and green on a building definitely works here."

"Yeah, the colors aren't gaudy like I imagined. They're soft and subtle." I looked at Edward. He nodded in agreement without taking his eyes off of the vast structure.

Alice mumbled behind her camera, snapping picture after picture. "It almost doesn't even look real. It's so detailed–the paintings, the carvings."

Announcing she wanted a group picture, Alice commandeered a nearby tourist to take our picture in front of the Duomo. Alice and I stood in the middle, with Emmett next to Alice, and Edward on the other end beside me. As we posed, I wrapped my arm around Edward's waist, and he did the same. Even through his hoodie, I felt the muscles of his back and his body heat burning into my hand. Feeling his hand touch my waist, not cautiously, but with purpose, brought a flash image of him kissing me.

This was the first time that Edward and I had touched since then, and I didn't want to let him go. I wanted to walk around Florence all day with my arm super-glued around his waist. The group picture was taken much too quickly, and I reluctantly pulled myself away from Edward's warmth.

I had anticipated that I might feel awkward around him after our kiss, but I was pleasantly surprised that I was as comfortable with him as I'd always been. Being in his presence was like being enveloped in a fluffy down comforter with subtle electrical currents running through it, creating warmth, comfort, tension, and tingles. I wondered what Edward thought about me and our kiss, but I no longer doubted that he felt the connection between us. As we entered the Duomo, I reasoned that this knowledge was enough for me to put aside my concerns, vowing to enjoy the next two days, wrapped in the fluffy comforter that was Edward.

I quickly gulped down the last of my coffee, tossing it in a nearby trash receptacle before entering the building. The interior of the Duomo was stunning like all the cathedrals I'd seen so far, but I never tired of beauty, so the repetition was welcome.

There were stained glass windows, elegant arches, ancient paintings, and, in this cathedral, a floor of marble tiles in an intricate mosaic, but the crowning jewel of the Duomo was the interior of the dome. We stood beneath it, craning our necks upward, scanning the fresco paintings of biblical scenes, which covered the octagonal dome. The sunlight shone through the small circular opening at the top, giving the masterful artwork its own natural spotlight.

Wordlessly, Edward and I walked on, leaving Emmett and Alice beneath the dome. Edward followed as I made a beeline toward a painting I recognized.

"Have you read _The Divine Comedy_, Edward?"

He smirked, pulling the beanie from his head and running his fingers through his beautifully messy hair. "Uh, what do you think, Bella?"

I didn't miss the sarcasm, so I gave it right back to him. "What? You're not into 14th century religious poetry?" I looked at him incredulously. "Huh . . . I guess I don't know you at all." I smiled teasingly.

"Ha-ha! C'mon, I'm not a complete literary buffoon. At least I've heard of it, and I know it was written by Dante."

"Ah, but did you know that Dante was born here in Florence, and that here in Italy he is referred to as 'The Supreme Poet'?" I countered.

Shaking his head amusedly, he stepped closer to read the description of the painting in front of us. "And this, apparently, is a painting of the man himself."

"Yep. He's holding a copy of _The Divine Comedy _and standing next to the entrance to Hell, and those are the seven terraces of Mount Purgatory . . . um, that's stuff that is in _The Divine Comedy_." I tucked an errant lock of hair behind my ear. "The city of Florence is behind him. There's the Duomo," I explained, pointing at the painting.

"Yeah, you can't miss that red dome."

Emmett and Alice rejoined us, and after Alice gave Emmett a brief explanation of the painting of Dante, we found our way out to the plaza.

The Baptistery was our next stop; it was just across from the Duomo in the same plaza. Edward secured his black beanie in place, covering my favorite head of hair in the world. I felt his hand on the small of my back, guiding me toward the famous bronze doors of the baptistery. There were just a handful of people gathered around, so we were able to walk right up to the doors, getting a good view of the artwork.

This is the advantage of touring Europe in the winter instead of the summer. The majority of people choose to not freeze their asses off while on vacation, so that meant relatively small crowds everywhere we went. Impatience being one of my faults, I preferred to teeth-chatter my way through short lines, rather than sweat through long ones. The only downside of exploring Europe in March was that all of nature was dead. Someday I'd return to brave the crowds in the spring or summer just to see the famous parks and gardens, alive and blooming.

"Those doors are amazing," Emmett bellowed. He leaned in closer, examining the detail. "Is that fucking bronze?" He aimed the question at me since I was the bestower of all knowledge with my handy dandy guidebook.

"Ding-ding-ding! We have a winner. Well done, Emmett," I said, giggling. "Yes, those are indeed bronze doors."

Everyone snapped pictures, taking a few minutes to analyze the intricate biblical scenes engraved on the bronze panels.

After entering the baptistery, a quick review in my guidebook told us that the octagonal baptistery was even older than the Duomo, having been built between the 11th and 13th centuries. Making physical contact with something that was from the freakin' Middle Ages boggled my little brain. Dante himself was baptized here. I imagined people who lived almost 900 years ago, standing in the very spot in which I now stood. I loved the feeling of somehow making contact with the past.

Like the Duomo, the Baptistery had a dome in which the interior was painted with biblical scenes. The octagonal structure was supported with marble pillars all the way around, and every wall was a piece of art made up of mosaic patterns. We walked around the small baptistery mostly in silence, with the random "wow" or "beautiful, huh?" occasionally uttered amongst our group of four.

"Where to now, Bella?" Emmett asked as we left.

I grinned in excitement. "Now we are going to see one of the most famous artistic masterpieces in the world." I couldn't help but pull an Alice, bouncing on my toes in excitement. "Michelangelo's statue of David!"

"Ah, man, you're killing me, Bella." Emmett rubbed his hands over his face, grimacing. "I'm not really into naked men."

Everybody laughed at Emmett as we walked toward the Accademia Gallery where David was housed. Alice couldn't resist the opening Emmett had given her with his comment.

"What's the matter, Emmett? Does David's naked perfection intimidate you? Would you suffer in comparison?" She smiled coyly.

"Wouldn't you like to know, honey," Emmett shot back at Alice, eyebrows dancing up and down suggestively.

Edward and I just about split our sides laughing, while Emmett grinned mischievously, and Alice, dare I say it, blushed in silence. I could count on one hand the number of times I'd ever seen Alice speechless or embarrassed. There was definitely some connection between those two for Alice to be affected that way.

I tried to deflect the attention from her, being the fantabulous friend that I am. "Nakedness aside, you can't come to Florence, Emmett, and _not_ see Michelangelo's _David_. It is arguably the most famous statue in the world."

But, apparently, the teenage boys hiding in grown men's bodies couldn't let the naked conversation pass. Edward spoke without a hint of humor.

"That's true, Bella, but still . . . you were practically bouncing up and down back there at the idea of seeing David. You haven't been this excited about anything else we've seen. I think it might be David's 'naked perfection' that has you so worked up." He put his hands up, making air quotes when he said "naked perfection" while flashing me the orneriest grin.

It was my turn to blush, but I tried to distract him from that fact with a healthy dose of flirting.

"Yeah, you _would _think that since most men would get rock hard by just ogling a naked female statue, but inanimate objects don't really do it for me." I twirled my hair around my finger and smiled coyly. Edward's grin evaporated, replaced with a gaping mouth.

_Oh, yeah, I'm in control now._

"But put a living, breathing body like David's in front of me with blood pulsing through him . . . yep, then I would be all over that 'naked perfection.'"

I made sure to include the air quotes as he'd done. Edward's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed hard, his face expressionless, before one side of his mouth turned up, producing that fuckhawt smirk that I had already grown to love.

Emmett bellowed, "Fuck, Bella! Don't hold back, honey. Tell us how you really feel."

"I'd say that point goes to Bella, no question." Alice snickered, giving me a high-five.

Edward smiled while shaking his head back and forth, obviously at a loss for words. The awkwardly hilarious moment ended when we passed an outdoor market, and Alice insisted that we take a look.

"Just for a few minutes," she begged. The guys were good sports about it, so we spent about thirty minutes shopping, mostly stopping to browse at whatever caught Alice's eye.

There were knick-knacks, purses, jewelry, and genuine Italian leather jackets, which I coveted, but I knew I could never afford. Alice coerced me into trying on a few of them, even though she knows I hate to shop when I can't buy anything. Along the way, we picked up some bottled water at a newsstand, and I bought some breath mints, too. I had no idea if Edward would ever kiss me again, but I would be prepared this time with minty fresh breath.

I'd pretended to be in control with our banter about the naked statue, but in reality, I knew that Edward held all the power. If he wanted to kiss me again, I could no sooner deny myself that kiss than I could deny myself food or sleep. As I popped a breath mint in my mouth, I recalled the feeling of Edward's lips on mine, which was a bad idea because now my girly bits were tingly.

We arrived at the Accademia Gallery, and I was happy to see that the line to get inside was a short one. After a brief wait, we entered the rather small museum. There were a few other works of art housed there, but the main attraction was all I cared about, and David did not disappoint.

Michelangelo's brilliance overwhelmed me as I considered the feat of unburying the ultimate specimen of masculinity from within a chunk of marble. Michelangelo captured the minutest detail, down to the manly veins on the back of David's hand.

Though I had never seen Edward naked, he was always generous enough to wear snug jeans and form-fitting shirts. I could easily fill in the rest of the details with my horny imagination, and I was quite certain that David's magnificent body had nothing on Edward.

_What the frack? _I was staring at the world-famous statue of David and thinking about a naked Edward? _Get a grip, Bella._

We stood quietly, processing the brilliant artistry in front of us. That only lasted about twenty seconds when Emmett cleared his throat.

"Um, Alice, to answer your earlier question–having now seen the dude, I am quite certain I would not suffer in comparison."

Smiling smugly at Alice, Emmett folded his arms across his chest, his biceps bulging against his tight, long-sleeved t-shirt. I wondered if he'd taken his hoodie off purposefully, allowing us more visual access to his muscular physique. _That little shit._ He was seriously working Alice. The boy was smitten–there was no doubt about it. And my little spitfire BFF was apparently all out of fire because she simply stared at Emmett, a goofy smirk on her face.

I couldn't resist the chance to knock Emmett down a peg. "Well, that's not really saying much, Emmett. I mean, yeah, David's body is nearly masculine perfection with the biceps, the pecs, and the abs. But, I have to say, I'm a little disappointed with his junk."

Alice suddenly came back to life. "I completely agree, Bella. It's rather average, isn't it? I mean, I know it's in a flaccid state, but even so, you can tell that even at full mast it would be just ordinary."

We giggled together, high on the power of having rendered the two men at our sides completely stunned and speechless. Edward ran his hand through his hair, before covering his smirk with his hand while rubbing the stubble on his cheeks. _Is he embarrassed? How adorable is that! _

Emmett's muteness didn't last long. "Well, ladies, isn't the most important thing that a man knows how to use it, rather than the size."

Alice looked at me, grinning mischievously, and I knew exactly what she was going to say. "Emmett, Emmett, Emmett." She sighed dramatically. "That's what men say to cover up for the fact that they're _lacking_ in size."

Emmett's eyes grew about three sizes larger, and his mouth flopped open in shock. He stepped closer to us, dropping his voice down to a low growl. "Where the fuck did you get that idea? You want me to whip it out right here to prove you wrong? Because I will."

Alice burst into a fit of nervous giggles, but I was having too much fun to let this stimulating conversation die. "What about you, Edward? You've been awfully quiet. Are you going to get in on this size comparison with Emmett and David?"

I don't know how I managed to hold in my laughter, but I said it without even a playful smile. I was certain he wouldn't know what to do with that question. I eagerly awaited his smirk and the embarrassed shake of his head again.

Edward took a step so that he was right next to me. Towering over me, he leaned down, brushing his lips against my ear. "There's no need," he whispered throatily. "There . . . Is . . . No . . . Comparison." He pronounced each word, slowly and distinctly. His warm breath caressed my ear, sending a burning flame straight down to my now aching girly bits.

_Holy fuckarooni! Did he just make me wet with nothing but words?_

Edward stepped away, returning his attention to the statue without meeting my "deer in headlights" stare. Emmett and Alice were as curious as George, asking Edward what he had said to me. He just smiled, shaking his head. Getting nothing out of him, they turned their attention to me.

"Sorry, but if I told you, I'd have to kill you," I deadpanned.

Alice leaned into me, muttering under her breath, "You're seven shades of red, so it must have been good."

Good was the understatement of the century. Just four little words–_there is no comparison–_held so much meaning. First, those words insinuated that he might be packing more heat in his jeans than the average man. How could that possibly be? It seemed wrong that God would hand out all the perfect parts to just one person: the piercing emerald eyes; the long-as-fuck eyelashes; the pouty, red lips; chiseled cheekbones and an angular jaw line that definitely put David's to shame; a muscular body on a tall frame, _and_ apparently, a monster cock on top of all that? Okay, I take it back–all that perfection on one body is _not_ wrong. Honestly, when I looked at Edward, I felt the need to get down and pray and thank the Lord for his goodness . . . and while down on my knees, I'd need to properly express my gratitude to Edward as well.

Those four flirtatious words he'd whispered conveyed more than just the possibility that he was walking around with an extra leg. More importantly than that, his bold statement told me something about Edward as a person. He wasn't loud and boastful, but rather quiet and confident, and that was the sexiest thing ever. My mind was a scrambled mess of thoughts and desire as we left the museum and walked in search of a restaurant for lunch, but one thought alone seemed to be on repeat–_You are so fucked, Bella Marie. _

* * *

**A/N: This chapter was a lot of fun to write. **

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	8. Mr Darcy, Who?

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: ** **Let's give a round of virtual applause to my talented betas: Pickwicksociety, JenKB, and GuitarGirl! Credit and thanks to Mel/mcc101180 over at Project Team Beta for polishing this chapter up even more!**

* * *

**Chapter 8 – Mr. Darcy, Who?**

I had never gotten too excited about biscotti before, but apparently in America, it is only a cheap imitation of the real thing. I dunked the authentic Italian biscotti into my steaming latte before biting into the heavenly combination. As I chewed, I smiled dreamily at Edward, nodding my head in approval of both my delicious breakfast and the forest green cable knit sweater he wore that transformed his hazel eyes to jade.

Glancing around the breakfast room in our hotel, I delighted in the atmosphere. We sat at one of six tables, each one covered with crisp, white tablecloths, white coffee cups, and a single orange, silk tulip. Golden sunlight shone through the large arched window, reflecting off the silverware laid out on each table, before merging with the gold walls surrounding us. The combination of the morning sun and the smell of freshly brewed coffee permeating the air invigorated me. I was excited to explore more of Florence with Edward, whereas Alice looked like she wanted to go back to bed.

"Oh, fuck," she groaned, nursing her hot latte. "I think I might have the seven dwarves living in my head. They're swinging their little pickaxes, mining away relentlessly." Alice's tiny fingers pressed into her temple in a circular motion.

"I don't know how you manage to be funny even when you feel like shit," Emmett said, shaking his head in awe.

"I'm sorry, sweets, but I did try to stop you after your third glass of wine," I gently reminded her.

Alice shot me the stink eye before conceding. "I _know_, but that was the best fucking wine I ever tasted. I couldn't help myself."

She wasn't exaggerating. Normally I'm not a big fan of wine, but after Edward insisted that I try it, I realized that my dislike of wine was only because there is a world of difference between the ten dollar bottles my mom buys at Wal-Mart and the expensive Italian wine that Edward ordered for us. The wine, aka the nectar of the gods, poured freely throughout our delicious, full-course, Italian meal. It was the perfect ending to a lovely day spent exploring the ancient city of Florence.

After the highly stimulating conversation–and I mean that quite literally–in front of the statue of David, we had grabbed a quick lunch before heading back to the hotel. While checking in at the front desk, I was surprised to learn that Edward and Emmett had separate rooms. I'd assumed they would share a room like us girls, but Edward briefly explained with a shrug of his shoulders that he liked his space and privacy. This was an interesting tidbit of information which said something about Edward's personality; I just wasn't quite sure what it said exactly. I filed it away for later analysis.

After going to our respective rooms, Alice and I spent a few hours resting and then showering before meeting the guys for dinner. Their punctual knock on our door came just as I had finished applying clear lip gloss, still holed up in the bathroom. I heard Alice answer the door as I stepped back from the mirror, assessing the image in front at me. My dark hair hung in loose waves against my sage green, button-down shirt with three-quarter sleeves. I liked that it was short in length, ending just at my waistband, leaving a full view of my ass. I was well aware of my strengths and my weaknesses. What God didn't give me on the front of my body, he made up for in the back, with what I knew was a voluptuous derrière. I wore my dark blue skinny jeans, which framed my backside better than any others. My feet still ached from all the walking, so I passed on my four-inch, peep toe heels, opting for comfy, ballet flats.

Emmett's voice, lavishing Alice with compliments about how lovely she looked, bellowed through the bathroom door. Before stepping out, I took a deep breath, attempting to release the butterflies I felt at the anticipation of seeing Edward again. Walking into the room, I smiled, taking in their appearance as inconspicuously as possible.

"Hey, guys!" Actually, I barely glanced at Emmett because as my gaze locked onto Edward my pulse quickened, my heart beating thunderously against my chest. _Thump, thump, thump_. Surely, everyone could hear it.

Edward was my mystery man in black–black jeans, black button-down shirt, which was open just enough to tease me with a glimpse of man-fur, and his brown leather jacket. He was sizzling hot, sinfully hot, illegally hot–just fucking hot!

I reached for my coat, but Edward was quicker, grabbing it from the back of the chair and holding it out for me to slip my arms into. As he settled it down over my shoulders, he leaned into me, speaking low enough that only I could hear. "You look amazing tonight, Bella."

I glanced back at him over my shoulder and mouthed "thank you" while pulling my long hair out from under my coat. It was a ten minute walk to the restaurant which came highly recommended by one of the hotel staff. We ate, drank, talked, flirted, and laughed for a solid three hours.

I smiled, remembering the evening, while Alice frowned, now paying dearly for her overindulgence of the expensive wine. Emmett encouraged her to eat a biscuit, but she waved him off, saying her stomach was a little queasy. I knew she wasn't exaggerating when a few minutes later, she regretfully announced she was going back to the room because she didn't feel well enough to traipse around Florence.

Emmett looked as though someone had just told him his puppy died. He immediately offered to stay with Alice to keep her company, but she politely declined, explaining that she didn't want him to miss out on the sights. Emmett was nothing if not persistent, so Alice eventually acquiesced, saying she would appreciate his company. Had I not known Alice so well, I might have been concerned that she may have allowed herself to be coerced. But Alice never, but never, did anything she did not want to do.

Still, I felt some unease that she and Emmett would be in a hotel room together . . . for hours . . . alone. She had never cheated on Jasper, and I didn't really believe she was capable of that. Yet, she was only human, and Emmett–well, he was really attractive, not to mention quite obviously attracted to Alice. But she made her own decisions, and who was I to persuade her otherwise, especially when I was beyond giddy with the realization that Edward and I would also be alone for the day.

Edward and I began our day of sightseeing at a museum dedicated to Dante and his writings. It was just a few blocks from the Duomo so we made it there after a fifteen minute walk. Edward was a sweetheart about visiting the museum, not complaining at all, even though I am certain it would not have been on his itinerary had he been touring Florence without me.

Our next destination was too far to walk. I had planned on taking a bus because I always did everything the cheapest way possible, but Edward insisted that we take a taxi cab, and then he insisted on paying for it. Once we were situated in the backseat of the cab, I handed my guidebook to Edward and asked that he educate us about our destination, the Pitti Palace.

He cocked one eyebrow in surprise. "You are handing over the oracle of knowledge to me?" He grinned, holding the book up questioningly. "Just like that?" The smart alec smirked at me.

"Yep, and I hope you feel honored. I don't give up the handy dandy guidebook to just anybody, ya know."

The truth was that I just wanted to hear him talk. Edward wasn't shy, but he didn't run his mouth endlessly without a purpose either. Often, his answers to my questions were more brief than I'd like, so I came up with this spur-of-the-moment idea to have him read to me from the guidebook. I would happily listen to that man read from the flippin' dictionary just to hear his soft and alluring masculine voice.

Edward read that the Pitti Palace dated back to the 14th century, but the little tidbit that lit his face up was that in the late 18th century the palace was used as a power base by Napoleon. I knew that Edward loved history, but as we talked about Napoleon, I learned he had a specific interest in military history. I wondered if his fascination with military history began before or after he served in the Army, but I was hesitant to bring up a potentially emotional subject and possibly spoil his jovial mood.

Having money to spend certainly makes things faster and easier because within ten minutes the taxi deposited us directly in front of the Pitti Palace. It had been turned into an art museum in the early 1900s, and I was thrilled with the variety of things to see. Besides hundreds of Renaissance paintings in the Palatine Gallery, there was also a Costume Gallery, Silver Museum, Porcelain Museum, and a Carriages Museum. Edward and I were especially captivated by the 18th century carriages used by the royal court. Many of them were highly decorative, with painted landscapes on their panels and adorned with gilt.

Edward was fascinated with one in particular that was called the Silver Carriage. As he studied the intricate detail of the silver carvings, I speculated, "This had to be the Mercedes of all carriages in their day."

"Yeah, at the very least, but this is real silver, so it might be more in the realm of an Aston Martin."

"An Aston Martin?" I looked at Edward, squinting my eyes questioningly. "I assume that's an insanely expensive car?"

"Um, yeah, that's right," he mumbled, his eyes darting away from mine, almost sheepishly.

_What was that all about?_ I wondered, but I let it pass, figuring it must be just one more thing that made Edward uncomfortable.

Reading the informational panel by the carriage, I added, "This says it was owned by the King of Naples, and you are right–it is real silver."

It really was extraordinary, reminiscent of Cinderella's carriage transformed from a pumpkin by her fairy godmother. The door panel looked to be bronze, adorned with three detailed silver carvings, contrasting with the gold door handle. Vibrant red outlined the windows, which highlighted the four red and gold wheels. I imagined myself wearing one of the Italian dresses I'd seen in the costume gallery, riding through the countryside in this spectacular carriage created for society's elite. Yeah, I'd read too much Jane Austen in my twenty-five years, that's for certain.

We left the museum, walking leisurely toward the Boboli Gardens, which were directly behind the palace. Edward, who had carried my backpack the entire day, pulled the guidebook out and began reading as we walked.

_"The Boboli Gardens form a famous park in Florence, Italy that is home to a distinguished collection of sculptures dating from the sixteenth through the eighteenth centuries, with some Roman antiquities."_

We came to a stop in front of a large labyrinth of shrubs, which I'm sure would be accented with colorful blooms in the spring and summer months.

"I can only imagine how beautiful this would be in the spring. And if I had a dollar for every time I've said that since I arrived in Europe, I would be able to buy that leather jacket I tried on yesterday."

Edward chuckled. "Yeah, March probably isn't the ideal time for seeing the beauty of Europe."

"Exactly. But in my defense, I didn't have a say in the timing since I'm over here teaching. What's your excuse for coming here in the winter?"

Continuing through the park, I pulled my hood up to warm my chilled ears.

Edward's brows scrunched up. He rubbed them with his hand, seemingly trying to smooth out the tension that had appeared. "Um, I didn't really plan it that way. It was a spontaneous decision, I guess."

"Hmm, do you always fly by the seat of your pants when you vacation?" I queried for more information as subtly as I could.

He looked at me as we walked, not answering immediately. "Honestly?" he finally replied. "No, I'm not usually quite that spontaneous, but I just needed to get away . . . sooner rather than later."

I absorbed the scrap of information he offered, quickly pondering whether I should press him further. "Away from what, Edward?"

I barely heard his reply, his voice was so soft, so vulnerable. "Everything."

He was rescued from another nosy question when we came upon a massive statue of Neptune in the center of a large pond with trident in hand. Edward's somber countenance transformed immediately when he saw it. I recalled from our time at the Louvre that he knew something about Greek and Roman mythology so I asked him to tell me about Neptune. I wasn't a complete idiot; I knew Neptune was the god of the ocean, but I could never remember which gods were Greek and which were Roman.

"Neptune is a Roman god," Edward reminded me. "Poseidon is the god of water in Greek mythology."

Much to Edward's delight, there were other mythical figures decorating the gardens. A spectacular statue of Perseus riding a horse was partially submerged in the pond. I couldn't remember who the flip Perseus was, or so I told Edward. I may or may not have conveniently forgotten the exploits of Perseus just so I could listen to Edward sound all intellectual as he educated me about all things mythological. All he needed was a suit and pair of glasses, and I would be ready to be schooled at the feet of Professor Cullen . . . on my knees . . . in my school girl skirt.

_A-hem, note to self: no sexual fantasies allowed in broad daylight while talking to Edward. Save that shit for nighttime, Bella. _

After my mythology lesson, we strolled further into the gardens. Yes, we _strolled_, and it was lovely. The only thing that would make our stroll through the romantic Italian garden any more romantic would be if Edward was holding my hand. But the extent of our physical contact was the same as the day before–a hand on the small of my back for a few seconds at a time under the guise of guiding me to our next destination. I adored the gesture; it made me feel cared for and protected. And the feel of his hand, even on a part of me as non-sexual as my back, always filled me with want and desire.

I was distracted from my internal longing by the most exquisite thing I had seen yet in the garden. Up ahead was a long pathway, which was bordered on each side by trees whose branches bowed over to meet, forming an arch that ran the entire length of the path. Even though the trees were barren of their leaves, the natural umbrella which canopied the path was stunning.

_My god, I have to come back here in the spring. One dollar, please. _

We walked under the arch of branches in a comfortable silence. I felt like I was in a Jane Austen novel. Almost all of her characters frequently enjoyed long walks in nature, in lieu of watching television or playing video games for recreation. I barely contained my giggle as I imagined that right at this moment, I was Elizabeth Bennett walking through the elaborate gardens of Pemberley Park with Mr. Darcy. Like many fans of Austen's _Pride and Prejudice_, I fell in love with Mr. Darcy right along with Elizabeth. With that thought, I glanced up at Edward who met my gaze with a gentle smile and kind eyes.

_Holy hell, he's beautiful. Mr. Darcy, who? _

"Would you like to sit for a while, Bella?" Edward motioned to a nearby bench as we left the path.

"Oh, yes, my feet would love that."

Sitting down, Edward removed my backpack, opened it, and pulled out two bottles of water. He offered me one and then sat the backpack on the bench between us. "Thanks. Rest and hydration is exactly what I needed."

For a minute or two, we sat quietly, drinking our water. My mouth still felt dry and a bit stale, so I fished out the breath mints in my backpack and popped one in my mouth. "You want one?" I held out the open container.

He chuckled as he took a mint. I tossed it in the backpack, moving it to the other side of the bench so I could slyly scoot closer to Edward, who was still muffling a laugh.

"What exactly is so funny, Mister?"

"Are you trying to diplomatically tell me I have bad breath?" Edward grinned, leaning toward me with both elbows on his knees.

I mirrored Edward's body language, leaning closer and meeting his gaze without a blink. "No, not at all. I happen to know that you taste delicious." I smiled coyly.

Edward's big grin morphed into his seductive crooked smile, his eyes narrowing and darkening.

It seemed that the hornier I get, the bolder I become. Desperately wanting to feel his lips again, I continued. "But that was the other night. I'm not sure what you taste like today," I hinted in my best seductive tone.

I don't think I could have been any more blunt, other than to actually say, "Edward, I want you to kiss me now." So I was momentarily shocked when he responded to my shamelessly blatant plea for a kiss by breaking our intense stare, moving his gaze down to his fidgeting hands. Had he not kissed me in Munich, I would have taken this response as rejection and died of embarrassment. But I absolutely knew that not only was he attracted to me, he also felt the deeper connection between us. All of that was conveyed wordlessly in that one kiss in Munich. I had no effing idea why he was retreating now, but I knew it was not because he didn't want me.

"Edward," I whispered gently. I reached out, placing my hand on his jaw, gently lifting his chin until he looked into my eyes again. "Edward, please."

Before he could respond, I moved my hand from his jaw to the back of his head and eagerly pulled him to me. My fingers twisted into his hair, but my lips were gentle as I pressed them to his. His soft mouth was unresponsive for a brief second, probably processing what was happening, but then his lips began moving tenderly over mine. I willed my tongue to stay in my mouth since we both had breath mints hiding out, but mostly because I didn't want to be so forward as to attack him with passionate kisses in a public park. He slid his tongue languidly over my bottom lip, causing me to sigh into the wonderment of his mouth. As we both broke our connection, I rested my forehead against his. "Mmm . . . still delicious."

Edward smirked at my assessment of his tastiness. I leaned back into my own space, but our eyes remained locked on each other as a sudden chilly breeze encircled me, adding to the titillating tingles already coursing through my body.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked. When I nodded my reply, Edward stood up and placed our bottled water in my backpack, before throwing it over one shoulder. Facing me, he extended his right hand with his palm face up. "Shall we, Miss Swan?" he asked with a smile.

With a stupid-ass grin on my face, I placed my hand in his as I stood, anticipating that once I was up and walking, he would release his hold on me. However, much to the delight of my Austen-loving heart, he took my hand, linking my arm through his and placing it on his forearm. If that wasn't enough to jolt every nerve ending in my body into alert status, he then placed his other hand atop mine. Now, more than before, I was Miss Bennett strolling arm in arm through Pemberley Park with my version of Mr. Darcy.

Looking down at me, he asked, "Are you hungry for lunch?"

With the small, gentlemanly gesture of offering me his arm, the audacious Bella from a few moments ago retreated, replaced with Miss Swan, delicate lady. All of my boldness abandoned me as I was overwhelmed with emotion and want. "Very," I managed to squeak, nodding my head with a bashful smile.

Edward suggested we ask the taxi driver for a restaurant recommendation before we continued to the next museum on our list. We casually wound our way through the garden toward the palace. As we exited the Pitti Palace, we noticed a café just in front of it, aptly named the Caffè Pitti. I hadn't noticed it when we had arrived. The café's convenient location and our eager appetites convinced us to have lunch there.

To me, the word café connotes something casual, so when we entered, I was surprised it was a little on the fancy-schmancy side, and when I saw the menu, I inwardly groaned that it was also on the pricey-dicey side. But we were already seated, and I was starving, so to hell with it, I thought.

I ordered the seafood risotto, which was so freakin' good, while Edward raved about his tuna fillet. We kept the conversation light, chatting about the best places we'd seen so far in our travels, and I learned about Edward's freakishly double-jointed elbows and fingers. I say freakish, but I mean it in the best possible way. I very nearly orgasmed right at the table when he demonstrated the flexibility of his insanely long fingers.

_Holy Fucking Fingers! Reminder–no daytime fantasies allowed._

I hastily excused myself to the restroom. I actually did need to use the restroom, but more than that, I needed a splash of cold water on my face. Being around this man who, for the record, I was more sexually attracted to than any other man I'd ever seen–including movie stars, rock stars, and models–with his long, bendy fingers teasing me, his erotically-charged "there is no comparison" statement, and the succulent kisses . . . all of it had turned me into one horny chick. Then, add to all of those allures the fact that I hadn't had sex for close to ten months since I had ended things with Mike. The combination of it all was the perfect recipe to produce a quivering, tingling, aching Bella, precariously dangling at the precipice of orgasm.

When I returned to the table, I caught Edward handing the bill and cash to the waiter. I tried but failed to convince him to allow me to pay for half of the meal. After catching another cab, we spent the remainder of the afternoon visiting the Uffizi Gallery, which housed works by Michelangelo, Raphael, and da Vinci, among many others.

We arrived back at the hotel around five o'clock, said a temporary good-bye, and went to our respective rooms. Shutting the door behind me, I was surprised to find the room dark. I flipped on the light, calling out, "Al?"

I walked to the small table in front of the window, sitting down my backpack and noticed a note from Alice.

_Dear Bells,_

_Tummy and head all better after being a lazyass all morning. So Emmett and I decided to get in some sightseeing. Don't know when we'll be back. Have fun with Edward!_

_Love your face,_

_Alice_

"Oh, thank god," I muttered to myself. I had felt terrible about leaving Alice behind at the hotel. It was a relief to know she was out having fun with Emmett.

My day with Edward was beyond fabulous, but it was tiring as well. The room was quiet and the bed called my name. I shimmied out of my jeans, tossing them onto the chair. After rummaging through my suitcase, I found my super soft, black lounge pants with a multi-colored butterfly decorating one leg. After I stepped into the most comfortable pants ever, I turned off the light and flopped onto the bed.

I must have fallen asleep before my head hit the pillow because the next thing I knew, I rolled over, opened my eyes, and saw 6:47 staring back at me on the bedside clock.

I sat up like a jack-in-the-box. "Holy shit!"

I had thought I'd have a quick, thirty minute nap, but I had apparently passed out for a solid hour and a half. I looked around the room, trying to orient myself and think clearly. The room was darker than it had been when I fell asleep, the sun having set by now. The low hum of moving mopeds echoed in the distance.

Obviously, Alice hadn't returned yet. I wondered if Emmett had been kind enough to tape a note to Edward's door letting him know he'd left with Alice. _Being a guy, probably not,_ I reasoned. I figured I'd better pop over and let Edward know what was going on. Plus, it would give me an excuse to see him again.

Five minutes later with teeth brushed, face splashed with cold water, hair brushed, and bladder relieved, I was ready. I was too lazy to lace up my shoes and Edward was only three doors down, so I walked to his room in my socks, lounge pants, and the same long-sleeved, v-neck t-shirt I'd worn all day. I knocked on Edward's door and waited.

Ten seconds passed and no answer. _Hmm, that's odd_, I thought. _Maybe he's in the bathroom._ I knocked again. _Or maybe he's sleeping? _

The door opened slowly to reveal Edward looking as if he had indeed just crawled out of bed. His hair jigged and jagged in fifty different directions, and his eyes squinted at the glare of light shining from the hallway.

"Oopsie." I bit on my thumbnail, exaggerating my nervousness. "I woke you up?"

"It's okay," he mumbled. "Come on in."

"No, um, really . . . you go back to sleep. I just wanted to see if Emmett left you a note, too. Did you know he and Alice are gone?"

My eyes involuntarily wandered from his face, beckoned by the light gray sweatpants that hung sinfully low on his hips. I was as bad as those men who notoriously talk to a woman's breasts, but I just couldn't look away.

"Bella, please, come in," he spoke groggily while tousling his deliciously disastrous hair. "I've slept long enough."

His voice pulled me out of my sweatpants-induced haze. "All right then," I agreed, walking into his room.

He flipped on the light, illuminating the darkened space before closing the door behind him. The room was larger than mine with a king size bed and a sofa covered in gold brocade fabric. Edward motioned for me to have a seat on the sofa as he walked toward the bathroom. "Excuse me for just a sec."

I settled onto the sofa, surveying his room. The décor was similar to mine, with rich, dark wood floors and armoire, powder blue walls, accented by ceiling-to-floor gold draperies and bedspread. The gold coverlet and white sheet laid in a twisted mess on the bed. A keycard, iPod, and brown leather wallet sat on the coffee table in front of me. I wondered what I would find in his wallet: a goofy driver's license photo, a condom, a photo of a beautiful woman?

Edward sauntered out of the bathroom, running his hands through his hair. "To answer your question, no. I didn't know they were gone. I just assumed Emmett was in his room or still in your room with Alice." He sat next to me on the sofa. "So she must be feeling better then?"

I nodded affirmatively, summarizing the note Alice had left for me and how I'd passed out on the bed for much longer than planned. I apologized again for waking him, but he insisted that he was glad I came. He said he'd slept about forty-five minutes after reading.

I asked him what he was reading and he stood up, retrieving his Kindle from the nightstand. He handed it to me with a sly smile. I glanced at the screen to see the title of one of my favorite Charles Dickens' novels, _A Tale of Two Cities_.

I was more than a little surprised and my cheeks flushed. "But . . . um, you don't read British literature."

Edward shrugged. "What can I say? I'm a curious guy." He leaned back against the couch, propping his feet on the coffee table. "I felt compelled to find out why Dickens is one of your favorite authors."

Every man I'd ever personally known either didn't read anything at all, or they read only non-fiction. The fact that Edward willingly read novels without being coerced by an English teacher, and now was reading a novel simply because I adored it, was a sort of intellectual aphrodisiac that made my heart flutter and my twat twitch.

"And?" I bit my lip in anticipation. "What do you think?"

"Well, I haven't gotten far enough to render my final verdict, but I have to admit that famous first paragraph is impressive."

Without skipping a beat, we quoted the paragraph in tandem: "_It was the best of times, it was the worst of times . . ." _

Edward's voice dropped off while I finished the quote, being the lit geek that I am. _"It was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair, we had everything before us, we had nothing before us . . ."_

I could have continued with my Dickens' quote projectile awhile longer, but I didn't want to overdo it.

Edward smiled. "Yeah, that's the one," he said, nodding his head. "Impressive, Bella."

I smiled, my heart swelled, and I may have blushed. "Not really." I shrugged. "I've just read it so many times that it's been seared into my brain. Plus, I like having my favorite words at my fingertips in case I need them."

"I don't mean to change the subject, but do you want to go get some dinner? Or should we wait for Alice and Emmett?"

"I am getting hungry, and who knows when they'll be back. The note didn't say anything about meeting up for dinner. But I'm so comfy and warm. I don't really feel like going out. I wish they had room service here."

"Your wish is my command, my lady." He stood up, walked over to his bed, where he sat and began putting on his sneakers. "Does pizza sound good?" He looked at me as he tied his laces.

"Yeess?" I dragged the word out questioningly. "What are you doing, Edward?" I squinted curiously at him.

Edward pulled on his Columbia hoodie, followed by the black beanie which swallowed up his disheveled hair. "I saw a pizzeria not too far from here. You stay here, and I'll be back with a hot pizza before you know it."

He zipped up his hoodie, and then pulled the hood up over his beanie. "What do you like on your pizza?"

"Anything and everything," I replied, grinning.

"Easy enough." He chuckled, sliding his room key card in his pocket. "I'll stop by Emmett's room on the way to see if they're back."

"Thanks, Edward."

As the door shut behind him, I picked up Edward's Kindle and began passing the time with my man, Dickens.

Thirty-five minutes after he'd left, I smelled the pizza before Edward even got through the door. He sat a pizza and a bottle of red wine on the coffee table.

"Pizza capricciosa is served!" he proudly announced.

"Capricciosa? What's that?"

Edward flipped open the pizza box, revealing a colorful pizza that looked as good as it smelled. "Capricciosa is the name for pizza with mozzarella, tomato, mushrooms, artichokes, ham, and olives. You did say anything and everything. I hope this is okay?" His eyebrows raised questioningly.

"Oh, my god! Artichokes on a pizza? They're one of my favorite veggies ever. This looks amazing, Edward. Thank you so much."

Edward quickly returned himself to his previous state of comfort, removing his shoes, beanie, and hoodie. He grabbed two glasses from the bathroom, filling them with wine. "Sorry, but these glasses will have to do."

"It's perfect," I said softly.

Edward sat next to me on the couch, handing me a glass of wine. He lifted his in a toast, winking as he spoke. "To Dickens."

I touched my glass to his. "To the best of times."

I thanked Edward at least five times for the pizza, as we each took turns elaborating about how ridiculously yummy it was. We ate, we drank, we talked, we laughed, and we drank some more. Halfway through my second glass of wine, Edward began asking me random questions.

"Favorite food?" He leaned back into the corner of the couch, relaxing, with wine in hand.

I burst into an alcohol-induced giggle. "Um, this pizza, of course." I tossed back the last of my wine in one gulp.

Edward chuckled, shaking his head. "Okay, your least favorite food?"

"That's easy–beets. Those things are nasty and stain everything."

"Yeah, I'm not a fan either. Okay, next question–who is your favorite comedian turned actor?"

I turned sideways on the sofa so I could face Edward directly, pulling my legs up and criss-crossing them. "Without question, Jim Carrey."

His eyebrows shot up, his eyes widened, and his mouth fell open. "You are fucking kidding me?" he blurted. He sat he glass on the table, turning toward me. "Jim Carrey? Are you serious?"

I scrunched up my face in confusion. "What? Why are you wigging out?"

"Because most women don't care for Jim Carrey's brand of humor. Well, I mean, they don't usually like his more juvenile movies like _Ace Ventura_ or _Dumb and Dumber_. I think he's brilliant, but . . . I just can't believe that you–"

Edward ran his hand through his hair, smiling like a kid on Christmas morning and shaking his head in disbelief.

Excitedly, I repositioned myself onto my knees with my feet tucked under my bum. "Are you kidding me? Ace Ventura is one of my favorite comedic characters ever–his crazy hair, his exaggerated walk, the combination of his intelligence and eccentricities."

"Well, alrighty then." Edward stretched out each syllable dramatically, doing a pretty good imitation of Ace Ventura.

I giggled fitfully. "Wow! That was spot on, Edward."

He smiled proudly. "Okay, so tell me one of your favorite scenes?"

I absentmindedly pulled my hair into a ponytail, twirling it around my hand as I thought. "Ah, I know. Remember when Ace is at the tribe's village eating dinner with them? He's licking fruit paste out of a pottery bowl."

Edward grinned, nodding.

"He says something about the fruit paste being delicious and that the pottery is lovely. The guy next to him tells him that the bowl is made from guano."

Edward laughed, clearly aware of what the next line was. His laughter was infectious, and I could barely get my words out in between hiccups of chuckles. "So then Ace says '_Guano? Why's that sounding so familiar_?'"

Anticipating the line, Edward howled, "Bat droppings!"

Edward and I chortled riotously between big gasps for air. "Yeah, the bowl was made out of bat droppings. And all the while he's licking the hell out of the it."

Bouncing on my legs tucked beneath me, I leaned closer to Edward, touching his knee with my hand. "He drops the bowl and starts spitting and furiously wiping his tongue with his hand. It's just the look on his face that kills me. So flippin' funny!"

"I know." Edward grinned. "Just his facial expressions alone are genius."

"Okay, your turn." I exhaled, trying to calm myself.

Edward angled himself on the sofa, turning to face me. "Remember when they're in the hut with the tribe's sacred white bat?"

"Uh-huh." I nodded my head, smiling like a loon.

"The bat's name is Shikaka, and every time somebody says the name, the chief and his son bow in reverence. Ace picks up on this right away and decides to have some fun."

I giggled, remembering. "Oh, my god, that's one of my favorite parts, too."

"So Ace says, 'Shikaka' and they bow. He says it again, and they bow. So then he says, 'Shish-kebab' and they start to bow, but then they stop when they realize he didn't say Shikaka."

I leaned over in a fit of laughter, playfully punching Edward's arm. "Yeah, he's totally psyching them out. Then he says 'Shawshank Redemption' and they almost bow."

Edward laughed, continuing with the lines. "Then he says 'Chi-ca-go.' It's so comical seeing them bow, up and down, up and down, while he messes with them."

He laughed heartily, tilting his head back against the sofa and exhaling loudly. "He's a fucking comical genius, no doubt."

I pulled my legs back out from beneath my bum, situating myself as close to Edward as possible. "No doubt about it," I panted breathily. "He's amazing."

Edward let out one last chuckle before lifting his head from the sofa, turning and leaning into me. When his eyes found mine, the atmosphere in the room changed almost instantaneously. His eyes narrowed, and his jaw flexed tightly. Then his features relaxed as he said in a husky whisper, "You are the amazing one, Bella."

I was lost, blissfully spinning in desire that I knew was uncontainable, floating freely in his words of praise, enveloped in that same electricity that crackled around me when our gaze connected the very first time on that train platform. I was whirling in desire, leaving me utterly speechless.

Edward broke through the silence. "You're beautiful. You're intelligent, and you appreciate juvenile humor as much as me." He chuckled. "Where the hell did you come from, woman?" he said jokingly. Or was he joking? Because once again, his eyes darkened, and his mouth became taut.

I smiled, glancing down shyly, before dragging my eyes back to his. The intensity of his gaze as he looked into my eyes took my breath away. Never had I felt such an ethereal connection to another human being. The air between us pulsated heavily with magnetic desire, pulling us ever closer.

Simultaneously, our arms eagerly wrapped around each other as our mouths crushed together hungrily, teeth nibbling on lips, tongues exploring and licking, hands wandering recklessly. The intensity was swift and immediate, like a flash fire, seemingly coming out of nowhere, but, in fact, had been heating and smoldering all the while. The warmth and wetness of his velvet lips and the feel of his long fingers kneading intently on my back sent erotic quivers throughout my body, unleashing the long pent-up desire inside me.

Desperately needing to be closer to him, with my lips still devouring his, I instinctively swung my leg around him so that I was on my knees, straddling him. He grabbed my hips tightly, pulling my pelvis down to meet his. I involuntarily moaned into his mouth as my clit pressed against his solid erection.

"Ohh, fuck," he groaned, moving his hands ravenously through my hair, intently pulling my head closer as he thrust his tongue into my mouth again.

Once I felt his enormous dick between my legs, I couldn't stop stroking it with my pussy. I thrust against it again, shuddering in ecstasy at the thought of how he would feel inside of me. I wanted Edward more than any man in the history of men, but I knew that could not happen tonight. I pushed that desire aside, choosing to live in the moment, relishing whatever level of intimacy we would both allow.

I couldn't see his erection as my eyes were half-closed in rapture, while my lips danced over his beautiful face and neck. But I didn't need to see his cock to know that he wasn't fucking kidding when he said there was no comparison; I could feel every single long, thick inch of him through the conveniently thin sweatpants we both wore. The material was so thin I could feel Edward's heat escaping from his hard length and radiating out, intensifying the tingles between my legs.

"Bella, please . . . listen to me," Edward whispered.

"Mmmm?" I murmured in between open-mouthed kisses against the soft warmth of his neck. He gently pulled me back, attempting to get me to focus on his words. He rested his forehead against mine, his breath coming in rapid gasps. "I'm sorry . . . _fuck_." His jaw clenched tightly, frustration visible in his eyes. "I know I've been sending you mixed signals, but we can't–"

"Yes, you have," I interrupted. The throbbing need between my legs did not want to hear the word _can't_. "But all I care about is _this_ signal," I purred as I thrust against his hard cock, "that you're sending me right now."

I buried my face in his neck once more, intoxicated with his scent, continually rubbing my clit against his hardness.

"Uhng . . . goddamnit," he groaned.

Greedy lips meandered up his neck and across his jaw, settling on the red silk of his lips. His actions contradicted his words as his mouth responded, his moist tongue sliding over my lip. His whispered groan escaped just as he deepened the kiss, sucking my lip into his mouth, only to stop suddenly, muttering under his breath, "Bella, nothing has changed since Munich."

His words were quiet and gentle and though my mind absorbed them, my body ignored his caution. He drew in a breath, halting my continually thrusting hips with his massive hands before moving them upwards to cradle my face.

"Bella, I'm so sorry," he offered, his eyes glistening. His tone was mixed with regret and frustration. "I can't do a fucking relationship . . . can't promise you–" His words trailed off as I kissed him again.

"Edward, I know." Wanting to soothe the torment etched in his features, I placed my hand on his jaw, gently stroking his stubbled cheek with the pad of my thumb. "Emmett told me."

"What?" Edward nearly growled. "He did?"

I peeked up at him through my lashes, slowly nodding. "Edward, I understand what you're saying. It's okay," I mumbled, staring at his chest as my fingers danced lightly over his pecs. "Just tonight then."

Slowly, I leaned into him, placing one lingering, tender kiss on his mouth. "I need you," I whispered against his lips. "Just tonight."

He opened his mouth to me, and the kiss that began gently, turned hard and unrestrained. His hands found my hips again, this time not to stop them, but to hold them in place as he pushed his still rigid cock against my heated center. My heart thudded in my chest and my insides were ablaze, threatening to incinerate me without the relief of climax my body was seeking.

Edward's tongue swirled around mine, retreating only to slide over my lip before he gently tugged at it with his teeth. I countered by pressing my body against his and lifting my hips, only to settle at the base of his cock before moving them in a forceful, upward motion, sliding my mound up and over his entire length. The friction generated an intense flash of electrifying pleasure emanating from my core and extending to my limbs, causing them to tense and tremble uncontrollably.

"What do you need, Bella?" his gravelly voice asked pleadingly. "Tell me what you want." I knew what he was asking. Ever the gentleman, he needed to know just how far I wanted this to go.

"Just this," I panted, again rotating my pelvis over his, each time winding the coil of nerves tighter. "Just this."

It was a lie. What I needed, what my body and my heart craved, was all of him. I'd never felt such an animalistic, carnal lust for another human being. The longing to consume him, to feel him inside of me was very nearly painful. Yet, even in my erotically frenzied state, I knew the pain would be more acute in the long-term if I allowed myself that intimacy, only to continue my life alone, never having him again. He had made it clear, more than once, that he had no love to give. So I would take his body and give of mine, but not completely–not so much that the separation afterwards would wreck me.

"Bella," Edward whispered against my ear, "so beautiful." His hands slid under my shirt, softly gliding up and back down the curve of my arched back. Laying my breasts against his chest, I found his warm mouth with mine. His tongue greeted mine eagerly as our lips moved chaotically, attempting to consume each other. I didn't want to ever stop kissing this man; I was certain I could never tire of the feel of his lips.

His hands moved down my back again before abruptly sinking into my ass cheeks. I gasped loudly into his mouth as he squeezed my ass, just before pulling my hips down forcefully against his hardness.

"Oh . . . _ah . . . _fuck." Edward hissed between kisses. "You feel so good, Bella."

My hands moved from tangling in his hair down to his waist, snaking under his shirt, hungrily seeking contact with his skin. I pushed his shirt up to his pecs, pulling away just briefly to see what hid beneath the material.

_Fuck! Does he have even an ounce of body fat? _

His torso rivaled David's without doubt, but after a quick glance, my need to feel him was greater than the need to see him. I returned to his mouth, kissing him with all the passion coursing through my body, licking, biting, sucking, and devouring him. Edward's hands remained on my ass, squeezing, caressing, and guiding our frenzied thrusts.

"Oh, Edward, yes . . . oh, god," I moaned, unable to bear the sweet torture silently.

All of my senses were lasciviously overloaded with the exquisiteness of Edward: the smell of him, a hint of soap mingled with a musky unknown scent, probably Edward's distinctly erotic pheromones; the taste of him, his lips and tongue retained the fruitiness of the wine we drank; the look of him, every inch of Edward was goddamn beautiful, the visual of him alone was enough to elicit wetness between my legs; the feel of him, the softness of his mouth contrasted with the roughness of his jaw, the contours of his defined abdomen, warm and hard and taut beneath me; the sound of him, his soft but throaty voice as he moaned for me.

"Oh, Edward, please . . . mmm," I mumbled, licking from his collarbone up to his jaw. He thrust his hips upward, still holding my ass in his hands, grinding his marble-like cock against my clit. My legs began trembling, all my muscles tightening as my orgasm mounted.

"That's it, baby, let it go," Edward growled predatorily against my neck, sucking and biting as he spoke. His words acted as a detonator, propelling the smoldering within me into an erotic explosion. I clenched my entire body around him–my thighs squeezed his hips, chest against chest, arms wrapped around his neck with fingers knitted tightly in his hair, as I buried my face in his neck–and screamed my release against his skin. "Fuck! _Ohh_ . . . Ed-waaard."

He was still hard between my legs, which was fine by me because I wanted more of him. I moved my hips, thrusting against him at a faster speed than before.

"Fuck…Bella_…ahh…_don't stop…almost," he croaked throatily.

I grabbed his hands from my hips, lifting them and placing them forcefully on my breasts, all the while matching his rhythmic thrusts, grinding myself against his hardness.

Our eyes connected as he squeezed my breasts, circling my nipples with his thumbs through the fabric. His eyes were heavy-lidded and dark with desire. His brows furrowed with tension, while his jaw clenched yet allowed small gasps of air to escape with each thrust. _He is so fucking beautiful._

And then I fell against him, molding my lips to his as he grunted and gasped against my mouth, his climax overtaking him. Seeing and hearing Edward like that was so fucking hot that, without warning, another orgasm swept over me, my clit ignited, shooting heat and tingles throughout my body.

"Holy fuck," I whispered as I nuzzled his neck. My legs and arms remained wrapped around him as our trembling and panting began to wane. Edward rubbed my back with one hand, the other gently stroking my long hair.

I always anticipated it would be difficult for me to trust a man again after Jacob, requiring baby steps, slowly opening myself up again. So as I lay my head on Edward's chest, hearing the comforting rhythm of his heartbeat, I was stunned to realize that I would, without hesitation, lay myself emotionally bare to him if he'd let me. It made no logical sense, especially in light of his warnings that he couldn't give me anything; yet I still felt safe with him, calm and peaceful. In some ways, his reticence spoke volumes, making me trust him even more. That he didn't want to just fuck me and leave, confirmed that he cared for me to some degree, but he was seemingly terrified of a commitment.

Edward nudged me out of my thoughts, mumbling something about needing to clean up. He disappeared into the bathroom leaving me to tread in a pool of paradoxical emotions. He may not have given a name to his decision to remain single while he worked out his shit, but, in fact, he had his own type of Operation Nun going on. I understood his choice to work through his emotional issues alone because I had done the same. Though I understood it intellectually, my heart rejected it, believing that he shouldn't suffer through the after effects of war alone. I was under no delusionary, juvenile belief that my love could change him or fix him, but I realized that I wanted to love him through his healing, comfort him through his struggles. The bottom line was that the idea of saying goodbye to Edward for a third, and most likely, final time tonight was abhorrent. Operation Nun, be damned.

I had never known this depth of emotional connection and intensity of physical desire with one person. I wanted his body, his mind, his heart, his soul, his devotion, his love. I was certain that deep down he wanted the same. The way in which he caressed my cheek so lovingly, the adoring tone as he whispered my name, and sometimes when he looked into my eyes, it seemed as if we were connecting and communicating on a metaphysical level. Words lie, but chemistry does not. I knew what I had to do–I had to fight for him.

Returning from the bathroom, he sat on the sofa next to me, smiling.

"Edward, I know I said I understood and that tonight would be . . . well, just tonight. But, like I said, Emmett told me everything and I need you to know that I . . . don't . . . care." I enunciated each word, pausing between each one, trying to stress my sincerity. "I mean, I'm not saying it would be easy, but I want to try. I don't want tonight to be goodbye."

He pressed his fingers into the bridge of his nose, his eyes tightly closed, as if trying to soothe away a headache. "Bel-la," he muttered, stretching each syllable out into a groan, his features contorting into a manifestation of sorrowful pain.

Just when I thought I couldn't stand another second of anticipation, he pulled me into an embrace, his cheek touching mine as he stroked my hair. "You are killing me, Bella," he spoke softly into my ear. "You are just too good, too kind, too everything. But I'm no good for you."

Tears welled up instantly, little brown ponds ready to overflow with one blink. I pulled myself out of his arms, looking for that ever-present connection, especially palpable when looking into each other's eyes.

"You're wrong, Edward. I know you would be good for me. I've never been more certain of anything. You feel it, too-I know you do."

"That's beside the point." Edward looked down with a sigh before lifting his eyes to mine again. "Bella, you are an amazing woman, truly. Any man would be a lucky bastard to have you, including me. Usually, I'm a selfish fucker, but not this time. You deserve better. I know you say you don't care about all the shit that comes with me, but it's too much to ask of anybody. I won't!" His jaw clenched resolutely.

We stared at each other silently, processing the emotional words we'd exchanged. His expression softened as he ran his hand chaotically through his hair, mumbling under his breath, barely loud enough for me to hear. "I won't ask it. I won't allow it."

My gamble to put my vulnerable self out there and ask for what I wanted had not paid off. Edward would not be swayed. "As you wish," my whispered voice cracked, a single tear gliding down my cheek.

My chest twisted and heaved as I reluctantly dragged my eyes from his gaze, knowing that once I looked away and walked out the door, the incorporeal connection between us would evaporate into nothing but a memory.

As I slowly stood up from the sofa, Edward cautiously reached out, gently taking my wrist in his hand. He stood, wrapping my arm around his waist and pulling me into his arms. Pressing my head to his chest, he softly caressed my hair. "I'm so sorry," he said sadly.

My cheeks were hot and wet, as tear after tear, slowly and quietly, escaped my flooded eyes. As much as I hated the thought of walking out his door, I needed to leave before I broke down completely.

Lifting my head from the warmth of his chest, I tilted my head back, looking up at him. What I saw nearly brought me to my knees–his face looked like I felt, twisted in obvious anguish, eyes glistening with moisture. With haste, I grabbed his face tightly in my hands, pulling his lips to mine with a kiss that was hard and quick. I stepped back, wiping the tears from my cheeks, offering him a small smile before turning and practically running to the door.

Seconds later, just a few steps down the hallway, a loud sound came from Edward's room, stopping me in my tracks with a gasp. It sounded like something had hit the wall or the floor. Momentarily, I felt the urge to go to him, but his choice was clear, so I sprinted the rest of the way to my room.

I couldn't be angry with him. Edward had never led me on; in fact, quite the opposite was true. He had tried to maintain a distance between us from the beginning. Each time there had been physical contact, he had tried to stop it before it began, telling me very clearly that he couldn't promise me anything. I had been the aggressor most of the time. If my heart was broken, I had nobody to blame but myself.

As I unlocked the door to my room, I wondered if Alice was back, while hoping that she wasn't. I was on the edge of falling into the abyss of uncontrollable tears, and I preferred to do that shit alone.

I swung the door open to see Alice rummaging through a suitcase. She whipped around with a smile on her face, but it quickly disappeared. "Bella?" she cried out. "Bella, what happened?"

I protectively buried my face in my hands as the floodgates swung open, no longer able to hold them closed. Tears fell without restraint as I gasped, my chest heaving as I tried to catch my breath, while whimpers and groans escaped me unwittingly. Alice's arms encircled me as I crumpled to the floor.

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**A/N: Go ahead, yell at me, curse me, throw things…I deserve it. Major cliffy, I know. Or is it Edward you want to throw things at? Are you thinking, 'WTF, Edward?' If so, please be patient with him. You and Bella both think you know his reason for not wanting a relationship, but his post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) is only one part of what is causing him to walk away from her. You will learn all about Edward one step at a time, right along with Bella. **

**Oh, and if you're wondering what the noise was that Bella heard after she left Edward's room, I'll tell you since there is no Edward's POV in this story…yet. What Bella heard was Edward throwing his Kindle against the wall. **

**To see pictures that accompany each chapter, including this one, visit one of the following:**

**Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. **

**For photos and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL /groups/281151482005898/ Then request to be added to the group.**


	9. Epiphanies, Pickpockets, & Crazies Oh My

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: Pickwicksociety deserves a big smooch from Edward for betaing this chapter in less than 48 hours so I could get it posted for you only one day behind schedule. ****Props to Mel/mcc101180 over at Project Team Beta for polishing this chapter up even more!**

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**Chapter 9 – Epiphanies, Pickpockets, and Crazies, Oh, My!**

After just thirty minutes into our journey to Rome, while staring out the window with heavy-lidded, red-rimmed eyes, I realized that trains are my new favorite way to travel. Not only are bullet trains fast, apparently they can also be therapeutic. The blurred colors of the landscape dancing across the glass, along with the haunting voice of Eva Cassidy streaming from my earbuds, created a hypnotic effect on me, easing the ache in my chest. I was lulled into that "almost asleep, but not quite" space, where I floated into my past.

The last time I had cried as deeply as I did after leaving Edward's room last night was when Jacob left me. Now, two and half years later, that life-changing moment was so surreal that when I replayed the memory it was like watching a movie, oddly detached as if it happened to someone else. Yet, the moment Jacob left me was seared into my heart and memory–each devastating detail, clear and vivid.

Jacob's hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles whitening with the pressure as beads of perspiration dripped down his ashen face. His stare was glazed over as he looked straight ahead, his dark brown eyes on the road, never once meeting mine as I sat in the passenger seat completely bewildered.

Jacob had picked me up from work like he did every day. I crawled into the car, leaning into him for a hello kiss but was stopped cold by what I saw. He looked like death warmed over, and I was scared shitless thinking that somebody had actually died.

"Jacob? What's wrong?" I gasped, panic rising in my chest. He was silent as he drove out of the parking lot. "Jacob, you're scaring me." My tone became more insistent. "What happened?"

My husband spoke the shocking words with determination and simplicity, his focus still on the road. "I've decided that I'm leaving you. You can have all the money in our account and anything in the apartment you want."

It was an out of body experience, yet I could still feel my traitorous body reacting to the incomprehensible news. My pulse raced, and my heart thumped erratically as my stomach clenched. I was disoriented, almost dizzy, but worst of all was the fear that manifested physically. Panic, terror, and dread encircled me, originating in my chest, squeezing and spasming before darting out through my limbs, wrapping around me in a suffocating vice. The tears were instantaneous as I hysterically begged Jacob to give us more time. I told him that I loved him and pleaded with him to stay.

There had been no warning, not even a hint, that divorce had ever crossed Jacob's mind except for a trivial misunderstanding that escalated into a major argument just two days earlier. Jacob had then revealed to me the true state of our marriage, running through the list of each of my faults as he perceived them. He told me that if things didn't change, he would leave.

Prior to that moment, I had sincerely believed that Jacob and I were happy, that our marriage was solid. We hardly ever fought, but when we did, they were major fights, more than enough to make up for all the days we got along. But that's normal, right? Married couples fight sometimes, then make up and go on.

Apparently, over the two days following that fight, he'd changed his mind, deciding to bail without giving me any time at all to work on my supposed weaknesses. According to him, everything wrong with our marriage was my fault, and I willingly took upon myself all the burden and guilt. My safe and happy world, and the control I thought I had over my own life, revealed itself to be nothing but an illusion.

Now my tears were for Edward. Initially, as I'd cried myself to sleep after leaving his room, I blamed Alice for my heartache. If she hadn't invited the guys to come to Florence, I wouldn't have spent the last two days falling under Edward's enchanting spell. Though, I didn't particularly like saying goodbye to Edward in Munich after that first kiss, doing so hadn't crushed me. If we had indeed gone our own ways that night, I would have always remembered him as the handsome man I met in Europe, wondering what might have been without any regret or sadness. But Florence had changed everything. Though the pain of losing Edward wasn't as acute as it was when I'd lost Jacob, it was significant. After all, I was married to Jacob for over two years, whereas I had known Edward for just a few days. Yet the loss was substantial because I'd never before experienced such a profound, instantaneous connection, not even with Jacob.

Earlier I had I found myself wishing that I'd never met Edward, inwardly cursing our time together. But that was just a gut reaction to the pain, willing into non-existence the source of my sorrow. After a night's rest and time gazing out the window of the train, I'd had an epiphany of sorts, suddenly remembering a nugget of wisdom I had learned as a result of my divorce: look for the good in every experience.

Over the past couple of years, I'd evolved into a very different person than I was while married to Jacob. Initially, I blamed myself for his unhappiness in our marriage and for the failure of it, just as he did. I had taken a long and painful look at all of the faults he'd listed as mine, self-analyzing to determine if there was any truth to them. It was difficult to do, but I began to acknowledge that I did tend to be critical of others, just as had Jacob accused. I didn't need a psychology degree to recognize that this was a symptom of my need for control, stemming from the chaos and instability of my childhood.

Over time, instead of hating myself for my weaknesses, I worked on changing them. What's that saying? Something about how you can't change the circumstance, but you can change the way you look at it, the way you perceive it . . . and _that_ changes everything. My divorce was pivotal in pushing me into a place of self-awareness. I would not wish on my worst frickin' enemy what I went through when Jacob left me. I'm not going to sugarcoat the truth–it sucked ass. But pain and loss propelled me into a state of humility, enabling me to make changes in myself, bringing about the good. Eventually, guilt transformed into understanding that I had done the best I could at the time.

I dragged my glazed-over eyes from the window to see if Alice was awake. She sat next to me, her feet up on the seat across from her, earbuds in place, rhythmically tapping her fingers on her leg.

Feeling my stare, she gave me a cautious smile. Though I hadn't even so much as hinted to Alice that I blamed her for my heartache, I knew that she blamed herself. Alice acts all tough and spunky, but underneath it all, she is one of the most compassionate and loving people I know. I knew without a doubt that she was hurting for me and kicking her own ass for inviting the guys to Florence. I needed to ease her guilt, and sharing my recently changed attitude might do just that. I removed my earbuds and gently pulled on one of Alice's, getting her attention.

"Hey, chica."

She smiled, removing the other earbud.

I turned in my seat so I could face her. "Al, I don't regret anything that happened with Edward."

Alice cocked a brow questioningly.

"I'm glad you asked Emmett and Edward to come to Florence with us. I admit I didn't feel that way last night, but I've realized that my time with Edward was a gift. He gave me the gift of knowledge. I had no effing idea that what I experienced with Edward even existed. I thought I knew love, passion, and friendship–I've been married for christ's sake! But I realize that I've been blissfully ignorant. Now that I know such a connection with a man is possible, I won't settle for anything less. How could I wish Edward away when, without our time together, I would probably end up in a mediocre relationship and naïvely think that it's as good as it gets?"

"Holy shit, Bella. He really did a number on you." Alice turned off her iPod, securing it in her backpack. "You say you were blissfully ignorant before. So does that mean you didn't really love Jacob, looking back?"

"I did love Jacob," I answered without hesitation. "But now I know that there is more than just loving somebody because you have a lot in common or because they love you. There can be something deeper, something intangible. With Edward, it was like there was this invisible, magnetic energy always pulling me to him. And the sexual attraction was like nothing I'd ever experienced. I mean, Jacob is an attractive man. I was attracted to him–who wouldn't be? But I didn't feel all tingly and literally ache to touch him whenever I saw him. Never. Not even at the beginning of our relationship when most people can't keep their hands off each other. But with Edward . . . oh god, Alice. I can't put it into words how intense the chemistry and passion is with him."

Alice gasped. "Did you two fuck?"

"Alice!" I chided. "Could you please say that just a little louder? I don't think the people in the back of the train heard." I rolled my eyes dramatically.

"Oh, shit, sorry." She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand.

"No, Alice, we didn't fuck, but we did mess around a bit." Sighing, I ran my hands through my hair as I began an attempt to articulate the indescribable. "With Jacob, the sex was okay because I didn't know anything different. You know I was a virgin before Jacob, and he wasn't all that experienced himself, so we didn't really know what we were doing, to be honest. But I did love him, so sex was more about being close to him, not about orgasms or passion. Does that make any sense?"

"It makes perfect sense, Bella." Alice smiled warmly.

"And then after Jacob, there was Mike, my shining moment of true idiocy. We had a strong physical attraction to each other. I really discovered my sexuality during the time we dated. He was a wild man in the sack, that's for sure." My eyebrows danced suggestively as I giggled. "But now, having been with Edward, I can see that though the sex with Mike was great, it was rather mechanical. I was just going through the motions, and the motions felt ah-maz-ing, of course, but . . ."

Alice chuckled a little at that, and I smiled before I wistfully played with the zipper on my hoodie, dropping my voice to a whisper. "But when Edward and I were intimate, I was completely lost in him, lost in the energy, and in my desire. I didn't think–I just felt."

Alice attempted to turn in the cramped train seat, drawing one leg up and facing me before she spoke. "I've never experienced what you're describing with Edward, but I think I get it. Jacob was a good match for day to day living, except for the fact that he was a judgmental fuck, but I digress. The point is that you two really did have a lot in common–similar goals and interests. On paper, you were perfect together, but there was no chemistry or passion."

"Yeah, that sounds about right."

"And with Mike, you had the sexual chemistry, but there was no real friendship or emotional connection." Alice eyed me, awaiting my approval of her analysis.

"Right, um . . . we had different goals, very different personalities, and we fought a lot. Definitely not a good match outside of the bedroom." I smirked.

"And then there's Edward. You know you have sexual chemistry with him, but what about goals and values? And the emotional connection?"

"We definitely have both sexual and emotional chemistry. God, when he looks into my eyes, Alice . . . I swear he's looking into my soul. I know that sounds corny as hell, but I just feel completely stripped, like he knows me . . . like he's always known me."

I paused, reflecting on what I'd come to know about Edward as a person but coming up with very little. "Honestly, I haven't been around him enough to even know if we'd be compatible on a daily basis. I don't know anything about his goals or his values, but we definitely enjoy each other's company and have some interests in common. Not that it matters."

The sad ache in my chest began to bubble up again, and I sighed, burying my face in my hands. "He made it clear that he doesn't want a relationship," I muttered through my fingers.

"Yeah, well, he does seem to be a nice guy, but he's a fucking stupid, nice guy for giving up the chance to have you in his life."

"Thanks, Al." I couldn't help but smile, even though I knew she was somewhat biased in her opinion of me.

"Obviously, you decided to relegate Operation Nun to inactive status–had Edward been open to a relationship, that is. So where does Operation Nun stand now that he's gone?"

"I seriously thought about what you said before. How I didn't want to end it early because of my need to control. But, you're right–Operation Nun served its purpose. I don't feel so needy or dependent on somebody else for my sense of self-worth anymore. So when I find another Edward, I'll be ready for him, waiting with open arms." I paused, contemplating my newest fear. "That's the thing though, Al. What if there isn't another Edward for me? I mean, I'm grateful he opened my eyes to what is possible, but what if that kind of connection doesn't come along all the time? Which obviously it doesn't considering I'm twenty-five and have never experienced anything like it before. What if I never find it again, and I have to settle for something less? I'm not sure that I could be happy, knowing what I was missing out on. I want it all."

I looked at Alice and was shaken when I saw sadness there. "So do I, Bella," she nearly whispered.

"What?" I blurted, not even trying to hide my surprise. Did she not have it all with Jasper? "But you and Jasper–"

"Jasper is my best friend, my rock, my constant. We rarely argue, and we have the same goals and interests. He's a good man, a really good man. I know he will be an amazing father someday. Any woman would be lucky to have him."

"But?" I asked cautiously.

"But as good-looking as he is, I have never felt a strong sexual attraction to him. I'm with him because everything else is so perfect, but I don't feel any passion. Sort of like with you and Jacob, I guess?"

She nervously twisted a section of her spiked onyx hair around her finger. "I know the initial intense chemistry lessens with time, but it was never there to begin with for us. And if you don't feel a strong urge to jump your boyfriend's bones, then isn't that what friendship is? When you love spending time with somebody but there isn't any sexually attraction–that's friendship."

"I had no idea, Alice. Why didn't you ever tell me before?"

"Because it's fucking embarrassing, that's why! Do I just blurt out in between classes – 'Hey, Bella, my sex life is shit'?"

"Don't be embarrassed. I'm glad you confided in me." I took a swig from my bottle of water, clearing my throat. "Um, I've been meaning to ask you about your day with Emmett. You know he has a thing for you, right?"

Alice's face suddenly lit up like a Christmas tree. _Holy crap, she's smitten. _

She smiled almost bashfully. "Um, yeah, I know that. We haven't actually talked about it, but we don't have to. I guess it's like what you said about Edward. When Emmett looks at me, it's like this silent communication flowing between us. We both know there is something intense going on without verbalizing it." Her grin swiftly faded. "And I feel guilty as fuck."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"No, Bella! What the fuck? I would never cheat on Jasper." Alice's mouth hung open in disgust.

"Sor-ry! I didn't think so, Al, but–"

"Emmett hasn't tried anything. He knows I'm in a serious relationship." Alice took a deep breath, exhaling dramatically. "I feel guilty because I am inexplicably drawn to another man, because I am _tempted_ to cheat, and because I can't help but think about what it would be like to have sex with said man." Alice spewed so rapidly I could barely keep up. She paused briefly, taking a needed breath. "So it's a damn good thing he's gone now. That's why I didn't invite them to come to Rome with us. I knew I was playing with fire, just by being around him."

"God, I'm so glad you didn't invite them," I groaned. "For both of our sake's."

We sat, surrounded by pensive silence, lost in our own thoughts. If Alice wasn't happy with Jasper, why was she still with him? Why had she stayed with him for nearly five years? And how long had she felt this way about their relationship?

"Al, you were unhappy with Jasper before you met Emmett, right?"

She nodded.

"So why have you stayed with him?"

"Because Jasper is comfortable and safe. I see so many couples who fight like crazy fucks all the time, but Jasper treats me like a queen. And what if I left him and then I never found that magical combination of passion and friendship? I can't know for sure if I could have that with Emmett, unless I left Jasper. So it would be a huge risk, walking into the unknown."

Alice traded her hair for her earring, twirling it between her fingers. Clearly, her contradicting emotions were weighing her down with anxiety. "I am extremely fucking attracted to Emmett sexually . . . like I wanna hump like bunnies with that boy. Even though I haven't known him long, we talked quite a lot, and I think we definitely have the friendship thing down. It's easy with him, just like with Jasper. We have our love of writing in common, we both enjoy traveling, and we even share similar political views, which is always a good thing. But who knows–we could end up at each other's throats if we were around each other all the time. If I left Jasper, I would need to do it knowing and accepting that it may not work with Emmett and that I might end up alone. I have to make the decision about Jasper as if Emmett isn't even in the picture, which, of course, he's not. I don't even know how to contact him. He asked for my email address, but I told him it was best for us to go our separate ways. Fuck, I'm regretting that now."

All the tension and heavy introspection bubbled out of me in the form of loud laughter, complete with a snort. Alice looked at me as if I'd sprouted a second head.

"Oh, shit, we are quite the pair, aren't we?" I giggled uncontrollably. "We are completely effed up because of two random men we met. Who would've thunk?"

Alice grinned, shaking her head at my crazy outburst, but as best friends do, she quickly joined me with her own giggle fit. "I like your approach, Bella. I'd much rather laugh than cry."

Once we arrived in Rome, we left the melodrama on the train, intent on fully enjoying our time in the ancient city. Being even further south than Florence, the air was brisk, but not biting. We found the nearest Metro station and caught the subway to Vatican City. It was a five minute walk from the station to St. Peter's Basilica, the crown jewel of Catholicism.

At the top of my to-do list was to see the famed ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, painted by Michelangelo in the 1500s. You don't have to be Catholic to get excited about something so beautiful, so old, and so famous.

There was a line of probably thirty people waiting to enter the Vatican Museums, which were en route to the Sistine Chapel. I was happy with our relatively brief wait because during my travel research, I'd read that during the busy summer months, the line to the Vatican Museums–or "queue" in British speak–wraps clear down the street and around the block. Hell to the no on that!

Once inside, we wound our way through the various rooms, enjoying the ancient works of famed painters like Raphael, Giotto, and Caravaggio, as well as admiring Roman sculptures and tombstones. Entering a long passageway known as the Gallery of Maps, I was rendered speechless, gazing at the walls covered in fresco paintings of maps of Italy. Who knew maps could be aesthetically pleasing?

But it wasn't so much the maps on the walls that silenced me–it was the frickin' amazing ceiling that went on and on for the entire length of the hallway. Alice and I ambled along at a snail's pace, heads back, eyes wide, while periodically mumbling, "Oh, my god" or "Wooow!" Our lack of articulation was due to the fact that there simply were no words adequate to describe the beauty, the talent, or the awe that overwhelmed us. The images on the ceiling almost looked 3D. Periodically, I rubbed my eyes in an attempt to focus my vision because those fresco paintings were playing tricks on me.

_Is that painting flat? Yes. Wait . . . no, it looks like it's raised, like a carving. No, wait, it looks flat again._

Alice seemed to be having the same problem. "Bells, is the ceiling painted _and_ carved or is it flat?"

"I have no idea, but I really am enjoying analyzing it."

"I am too, but I'm going to have a hellacious neck ache by the time we leave. I just can't stop looking up. I might miss something." Alice giggled quietly.

Smiling, I said, "Yeah, but a neck ache is worth it."

Arriving in the Sistine Chapel a few minutes later, it was smaller than I'd imagined, but Michelangelo's famed ceiling was glorious, the collage of colors so vivid and alive. The scenes were divided into panels by what looked like moldings, but some reading in my book explained that they were not actual moldings. In actuality, they were two-dimensional divisions, skillfully painted in by Michelangelo to demarcate separate compositions, which were various scenes from The Bible.

I'm not a church-going gal, but I could easily identify illustrations of the creation, the story of Noah, cute little cherubs here and there, and the famous image of the hand of God reaching out to touch Adam's hand, giving him life. Gazing at the images, I wondered if Edward was particularly religious. Why the hell that little gem floated into my consciousness, I have no idea because it didn't effing matter. _He left, he's gone, get over it_, I chided myself.

After completing the tour of the Vatican Museums, we ventured over to St. Peter's Basilica, just down the street and around the corner. We approached the church by walking through this ginormous open plaza, aptly named St. Peter's Piazza. Partially framing the courtyard, massive columns began on each side of the basilica, curving outward, embracing the piazza in an elliptical shape. On top of the column structure sat statue after statue after statue, running the whole length of the curved formation. I had no idea who the statues represented, but my educated guess was that they were Catholic saints or prophets.

We entered the basilica, stopping just inside the doors to let our eyes adjust from just coming out of the sun. I swear to god…er, maybe I shouldn't swear to god in a holy basilica, but seriously, I swear that every time I visit a cathedral or church, it is _the_ most beautiful to date. But then I say the same flippin' thing at the next cathedral.

"Oh, Alice, this is . . . gorgeous!"

"Holy Fu–" Alice paused. "Oh, my, I almost said a really bad word in a house of God." She scrunched up her features, grimacing. "Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to refrain from swearing because this place is stunning and certainly worthy of a few F-bombs to highlight that fact."

"Alice, you kill me." I giggled heartily.

Once again, my neck was angled back, staring at the curved ceiling, covered in fresco artwork, of course. But it wasn't just the paintings that contributed to the awe factor–it was the architecture. Columns, arches, angles, and curves were everywhere I looked. Even the floor that my filthy feet were desecrating was covered in marble mosaics, colors, and patterns. There was not one single square inch, I kid you not, that was just bare. Everything was an artistic masterpiece, overwhelming my visual abilities as my eyes darted around, struggling to take it all in. "C'mon, Alice, let's find the Pietà."

We wandered around, eventually finding Michelangelo's sculpture of Mary, the mother of God, holding Jesus in her arms after he was crucified. Protected behind a panel of glass, I gazed nostalgically upon the original full-sized version of the Pietà, actually created by the hands of the master, Michelangelo.

I knew the piece well. My mother had a small knick-knack version of it displayed on her dresser for as long as I could remember. I don't know why she owned something like that because she never taught me about God or religion, and I had never asked her where she got it or why she owned it. I was always fascinated with it as a little girl, often picking it up, tracing the carved lines and curves, imagining Mary's sadness, and sometimes wishing she was my mother. She obviously loved her son, cradling him in her lap, loving him one last time.

Growing up, I'd never felt loved by my mother. She said the three magic words–I love you–sometimes during her "normal" moments, but their validity disintegrated the next time she swore at me, calling me filthy names for no reason whatsoever, before hiding herself in her bedroom for days. I must be worthless, a bad little girl, unlovable, if even my own mother doesn't love me, or so my ten year old self believed.

Thirty minutes later we were out the door of the basilica in search of food. It was well past lunch time, and my stomach let me know it, gurgling loudly. We explored the streets near St. Peter's, and after about ten minutes, we stumbled upon a little place called Ristorante dal Toscano. I'll be honest–we frickin' pigged out. Fortunately, we didn't look like pigs because in this part of the world lunch is the largest meal of the day, and we took full advantage of that fact. We ate pasta, of-freaking-course. What else would we eat in Rome?

After waddling to the subway station, we caught a train to the station nearest to our next destination, the Coliseum. It was a short walk, the exercise sorely needed after our porkfest of pasta. I could still taste the garlic in my mouth; no doubt the odorous fumes were capable of rendering a small child unconscious if I opened my mouth.

Remembering the breath mints in my backpack, I quickly found them, popping a couple in my mouth, and then offered some to Alice. As she reached out to take one, thanking me before she put it in her mouth, Alice's face faded from my view, replaced with a vivid vision of Edward taking the mint I offered him . . . just yesterday. _Good god, was it really just yesterday?_

I sighed inwardly. It felt like a hundred years had passed because the second I'd walked out of Edward's hotel room, the connective energy always flowing around us had evaporated, creating a chasm of emptiness where the passage of time was meaningless. It could have been one day or a hundred days–I missed him the same. And, naturally, I couldn't think about the mint offering without imagining the tenderly luscious and minty kiss that followed as we sat on the bench in our Pemberley Park.

"Bells, hey, I lost you." Alice wrapped her arm around my shoulder, pulling me against her and away from my daydreams. "Don't go there, okay?

Focus on that chunk of Roman antiquity in front of us instead."

Geez! I couldn't hide anything from that perceptive little pixie. Eff my wear-my-heart-on-my-sleeve personality! Sometimes I hated that I couldn't conceal my emotions any better. Sure, Alice and I confided in each other on the train about Edward and Emmett, but that didn't mean that I don't sometimes need privacy with my own flipping thoughts. I shot her a lame-assed smile before concentrating on the large structure just ahead. As we got closer to the elliptical Coliseum, I decided that "large" was an inaccurate description–it was massive, and frickin' ancient, and cool as hell!

"Oh, holy mother of all fuckhawt policemen–fucking Roman guards!" Alice shrieked. I followed her line of sight to three young, good-looking men dressed in full Roman garb, posing for photos with tourists in front of the Coliseum.

"C'mon, we _have_ to get a picture with them." Alice grabbed my hand, picking up her pace.

Who would have thought a skirt on a man could be hot? Not me. Maybe it was because they were brown _leather_ skirts. Leather is almost always sexy, unless overdone. I wasn't too keen on their red-feathered, plumed helmets that resembled a rooster's head, but the gold breastplate, leather bands encircling their forearms, and red cape, with sword and shield in hand, created a nice picture of ancient masculinity.

We chatted briefly with the "guards" while one of them snapped a picture of Alice and me with the other two. They posed dramatically, holding their swords menacingly as if they had taken us into custody. I had a feeling that this photo would be the star of all our pictures taken with policemen across Europe. We thanked the very friendly guards and headed to the entrance of the Coliseum.

"I know this place is old as fuck, but check your book, would ya? I want to know exactly how old it is," Alice mumbled.

"I don't need to look. I read all about it on the train. It was built between 70 and 80 A.D."

Alice's eyed grew wide as we gazed into the center of the arena. "Holy fucking shit! That boggles my little pea brain, seriously."

We walked down some stairs to get a better look at the center floor of the Coliseum. Actually, there wasn't a "floor" anymore at all, having been destroyed over time, but the underground labyrinth of stone tunnels was preserved. Green moss blanketed portions of the stone walls, creeping out of crevices and meandering along the pathways. The combination of new living green with old, ruinous brown was its own kind of unique beauty.

Alice lifted up her sunglasses, pushing them to rest on the top of her head. "So this is the oldest thing we've seen so far, huh?" she confirmed.

"Yep. I can't believe this place is nearly 2000 years old. Really, it's amazing that it's still standing for the most part. The book said it's not completely intact because of earthquake damage and people stealing some of the stones."

"They did gladiator shit here, right?" It was a rhetorical question, apparently, because Alice didn't pause for an answer. "Yeah, I can see Russell Crowe out there right now, kicking some ass." She bounced on her toes, laughing.

"Remember in the movie how they'd let the lions out of the gates into the arena? They were held in those underground tunnels before being released," I explained as I pointed to the tunnels. "They also held executions here and even performed plays."

Alice began chattering away about the barbarism of it all before wandering some distance away, snapping pictures as she went.

_Edward would be completely entranced with this place_, I thought, releasing a heavy-hearted sigh. I imagined him standing next to me, excitedly sharing fascinating details about the Roman Coliseum. My history dude probably knew more about the Roman Empire with all of their world-conquering than even my fact-filled guidebook. _**My **__history dude? _

I quickly corrected my erroneous inner dialogue, sadly reminding myself that Edward was not _my_ anything. I wondered if he would come to Rome at another time, when he knew I wouldn't be here. He had said they planned on another two weeks of traveling before returning to the States. I hoped he would because a 2000 year old structure, built by an empire known for its military prowess was about as "historical" as it gets, making it something that would entirely enthrall Edward. _God damn it. I miss the hell out of him. _

I scanned the area for Alice, spotting her clear on the other side of the arena. I leisurely made my way over to her, taking some pictures along the way. We left the Coliseum and walked about three minutes down the road to see more Roman antiquity.

The Forum could be compared to a city's downtown area in our day; government offices and some of the city's most important buildings, like Roman Temples, were located there. Some of the temples had nothing left but the front columns or the foundation, but others were more intact, like the Temple of Vesta.

We didn't spend a lot of time at the Forum because we needed to catch a bus over to the Pantheon before the buses stopped running. The subway didn't go to that area apparently, and cabs were too rich for my blood, so the city bus it would be. That is, if we could get through the mass of people gathered at the bus stop, most who appeared to be locals. I momentarily wondered where all the tourists were before realizing that most tourists aren't as cheap-assed as I am and probably actually paid for a taxi to get to areas not serviced by the Metro.

When the bus arrived, we watched in astonishment as people pushed, shoved, and scrambled like psychotic scurrying ants, trying to secure a spot on the crowded bus. Within seconds, it was filled beyond capacity and speeding away with people literally hanging out of the open door, holding onto the exterior railing.

"What kind of freaking fuckery is this?" Alice bellowed.

"Oh . . . my . . . god," I squeaked, my mouth hanging open in shock.

Now that we'd seen how the craziness worked, we determined that we wouldn't stand like statues when the next bus arrived. We strategized, working our way to the front of the group, resolute to be as aggressive as necessary to get on the next bus. We waited anxiously, ready to be pushy American bitches, if need be.

The next bus arrived, coming to a stop right in front of us. Ten seconds later, the bus pulled away from the curb and away from us.

"This is un-fucking-believable," Alice groaned.

"Um, what just happened, Alice?" I was stupefied.

"What happened is we were overpowered by a swarm of Italian-speaking, bus-riding bullies." Alice ran her hands frantically through her hair, letting out a sigh of stress. "Bella, if we don't make it on the next bus, we are hailing a fucking taxi. I will happily pay for it myself. This bullshit bus fuckery is giving me a headache."

Fortunately, learning from our two failed attempts, we managed to push our way onto the third bus. It dropped us off close to the Pantheon, a temple to all the gods of Ancient Rome, commissioned by Marcus Agrippa. The Pantheon was the epitome of Roman architecture with huge granite Corinthian columns supporting a triangular granite face with a Latin inscription.

We did our touristy thing there, afterwards stopping at a café located in the piazza across from the Pantheon. We picked up a couple of deli sandwiches to go because we didn't have much time to get to the train station to catch the night train to Paris. I know, I know! I swore I wouldn't do another sleeper train, but when I found out the trip from Rome to Paris was like fifteen hours, it was a no-brainer. Even if I slept restlessly again, it still had to be better than suffering through fifteen hours awake in an upright seat, unable to sleep at all.

We caught a bus near the Pantheon on only our second try, but all the seats were taken so we stood in the aisle with about a hundred other people all packed in like frickin' sardines. Rows of handles dangled from the ceiling, which I gratefully grabbed onto, clutching the paper bag that held my dinner with my other hand. Alice stood facing me, also hanging on for dear life as the Mario Andretti wanna-be bus driver speedily took corners as if on a racetrack.

Two Italian women with babies strapped to their chests in one of those baby carriers stood on each side of us. The women faced each other as did Alice and I, sort of forming a circle, all the while bumping each other and thoroughly invading personal space throughout the trip.

Arriving in front of the train station, we politely allowed the two mothers to exit before us. As Alice and I stepped onto the sidewalk, she scared the living crap out of me, loudly shrieking, "Shit. Shit. Shit. _Fucking_ shit!"

"What's wrong?" I gasped, looking to see Alice pivoting around, scanning the area as if looking for someone. "Those motherfuckers!"

Motioning to her fanny pack that was belted around her waist, I saw that it was unzipped. "I've just been pickpocketed, Bella. My credit card is gone."

"Holy hell! We've got to call your bank immediately, Alice," I hollered in a bit of a panic. I grabbed her by the elbow and took off running into the train station.

We found a public pay phone inside, and Alice began the process of contacting her bank to report her credit card as stolen.

Leaning against the filthy wall, I warily took in our surroundings. The station hallway was littered with trash, and Creepy Station Guy was hanging out down the corridor. He had tried to accost us when we ran into the station, reaching for my arm and asking us with slurred words if we were American. Of course, we'd ignored him and continued our search for a telephone.

Though he was some distance away, he kept looking over at us, making me nervous. I covertly checked my wad of bills tucked securely away in my bra. God, that sounds so redneck, doesn't it? It's not like I normally carry my money there, but when I'd read during my travel research that pickpockets are common in large European cities, I decided my love pillows were as secure as Fort Knox. After all, they hadn't been touched in almost a year if I didn't count the through the clothes fondling from Edward, but I digress.

Apparently, expert pickpocketers can lift items from a tight jeans pocket without being detected, but there is no freakin' way I wouldn't feel an invasion of Bella's boobs–those puppies are highly sensitive.

Of course, I'd told Alice what I learned and where I planned to keep my money before we even left Phoenix, but she was certain she would feel it if anybody touched her fanny pack. In her defense, she kept her credit card in the zippered compartment that was on the back of the pack, so it was flush against her abdomen. You'd think you would feel that shit going down, but as I replayed the chaotic situation on the bus, it all made sense. I shared my conclusion with Alice, while she waited on hold on the pay phone.

"It was the women next to us, the mothers with their babies in the carriers," I stated matter-of-factly.

"Yeah, I know!" Alice blurted with an irritated tone. "That's why they are quite literally _mother_-fuckers!" God, leave it to Alice to make jokes during a crisis. Just another reason I love the hell out of her.

"I just can't believe I didn't feel anything," Alice went on. "I had no idea until I stepped off the bus and looked down to find my pack unzipped."

"They're professionals, Alice. Picking a pocket is easiest on a bouncing, crowded bus or subway. The jostling and bumping into people makes it seem okay when somebody touches you. You expect to be bumped and have your space invaded on a crowded bus. Also, they used their babies in the carriers to hide their hands as they got into your pack. We were smashed so close together, we couldn't even see the floor. The babies were there in the middle, obscuring your fanny pack from view."

"Okay, can I just say, it is just wrong on so many fucking levels to use children to commit crimes!" Alice scoffed.

I laughed because what else could I do? It was a jacked-up situation. "Welcome to Rome, Alice."

"Yes, I'm here," she said into the telephone. "Um, it was stolen about fifteen minutes ago. Yes, Alice, A-L-I-C-E."

A blur of orange passed my peripheral vision, pulling my attention away from Alice. I turned quickly to see Creepy Station Guy approaching us.

"Hey, pretty lady, where are you from?" He grinned, flashing his yellowed teeth. His tattered and stained orange t-shirt hung loosely on his lanky frame. He was tall, like probably even taller than Edward, who I knew was 6'1" because I asked him at one point. And even from five feet away, Creepy Station Guy's odor drifted into my space.

"The U.S.," I mumbled, trying to be polite but not too friendly. My eyes darted nervously away from him–eye contact might encourage him.

"The U. S. of A. Woo-hoo!" he bellowed.

Alice placed her hand over the phone, mumbling quietly to me, "Why is it that I've seen police on almost every fucking corner today, but there isn't a goddamn one to be found in this trashy place to round up the loons?"

I nodded silently, trying to keep an eye on Creepy Station Guy without staring, just in case he tried to get closer to us. He was still too close for my comfort, standing very still and muttering nonstop under his breath. Clearly, he was operating five cans short of a six-pack.

"Miss?" Creepy Station Guy stepped closer. "Have you seen my briefcase? I lost it here, and I have to find it. There's 10,000 pounds inside."

"Um, no, I can't help you. We have to leave soon," I said as emotionless as I could, not wanting to convey fear or my growing irritation.

Alice shot daggers at Creepy Station Guy while covering the mouthpiece of the phone with her hand. "Shhhh!" She scowled at him.

"Listen, can you go back over there, please?" I spoke with a little more venom than I had before, letting him know I meant business. "She's on an important phone call."

But instead of leaving, he got louder. "You took my briefcase, didn't you? You found it." He pointed a finger at us. "That's why you were running," he accused, becoming agitated.

I ignored him, silently wishing that Edward and Emmett were with us. We probably wouldn't be dealing with this crazy asshat if they were.

"What was that? I couldn't hear you," Alice said into the phone with a finger stuck in her other ear, trying to drown out the distracting noise.

"Give me my briefcase back right now!" Creepy Station Guy demanded menacingly.

Before I could decide on the best course of action in this disturbing situation, Alice spoke politely into the phone, "I'm sorry. Hold on just a second, please."

Covering the mouthpiece again, she took a step toward Creepy Station Guy. Oh, my–it appeared that he had just stepped on Alice's very last nerve.

"Do you see a fucking briefcase? Huh?" she screamed at him, her flushed face contorting in anger. "Look around! If we had your shit briefcase, it would be right the fuck here. _Now_ . . . you are going to turn around and walk away from us, or I'm going to scream so fucking loud your eardrums will break, and you'll be curled in a ball on the floor crying like a fucking baby! And then the police will come and take your crying ass to jail!"

Creepy Station Guy stared at her, void of any expression or emotion. I'm not gonna lie–I was scared shitless. This was one crazy bastard who could get angry and pull a knife out or something. If he didn't kill Alice, I just might because how effing stupid could she be, screaming in the face of an unstable homeless guy?

Alice was the queen of stare downs, and after about ten seconds of silence, he abruptly turned away, muttering about needing to get to an appointment. I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. Only Alice could snap somebody out of a schizophrenic haze. Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, I chuckled to myself as Alice returned to her phone conversation.

After what seemed like forever, she got her credit card canceled, and we found a waiting area where we sat down and ate our sandwiches. Afterwards, we retrieved our luggage from a holding area where we'd checked them in upon arrival, and then we boarded the train en route to Paris. After we got ourselves situated in the sleeper compartment, we lay on our beds chatting. We were the only passengers in our compartment this time, which was a phenomenal thing to happen, considering the shitty day we'd had in Rome.

"Bells, I have to say that Rome was somewhat disappointing for me." Alice sighed, stretching her petite body, toes pointed and arms above her head.

"And not because I got pickpocketed," she quickly added. Letting out another tired sigh, she explained, "Except for a handful of ancient buildings scattered around, it's just a big, dirty, busy city, much like Los Angeles."

"I absolutely agree. But I'm still glad I came, and I think everybody should visit Rome at least once, just to see those ancient buildings that are scattered around the city, as you put it. They were pretty spectacular."

I tried in vain to fluff the cracker-thin pillow, snuggling into it and covering my yawn with my hand.

"Yeah, the Coliseum alone was worth the trip."

Alice switched off the light, and I flipped and flopped for a few seconds, trying to get comfortable. The darkness and the low hum of the train encircled me, relaxing my tired muscles and thoughts.

Without anything else to focus on, Edward's presence entered my stream of consciousness. _I wonder where he is right now?_ I felt completely disconnected, lost, and anxious not knowing where he was in this big world.

"Al? You still awake?" I whispered.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Did Emmett happen to mention where they were headed next?"

"Madrid," she muttered sleepily.

"Okay . . . thanks. Night."

"Night-night."

Why the hell knowing what city Edward was in had a calming effect on me, I have no effing clue. It made no logical sense, but there it was, in all its irrational glory. Most likely the guys would spend no more than a few days in Madrid, and then I'd be lost again, not knowing where he had gone next. There was only one place where I knew I could find him, so I closed my eyes, eager to embrace him in my dreams.

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**A/N: I know you probably missed Edward, but it is what it is. If it makes you feel any better, Bella misses him, too.**

**To see pictures that accompany each chapter, including this one, visit one of the following:**

**Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. **

**For photos and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL- **

**/groups/281151482005898/**

**Then request to be added to the group.**


	10. A Hero Is Born

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM.**

**A/N: **bowing at the feet of my betas** Pickwicksociety, JenKB, and Guitargirl edited this chapter in less than 24 hours. How is that for devotion? They are beta-tacular! (yeah, I made that up…I'm a dork.)** **And special thanks to Mel/mcc101180 over at Project Team Beta for polishing up this chapter even more.**

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**Chapter 10 – A Hero Is Born**

"Miss Swan?" The feminine, English-accented voice spoke tentatively.

I turned from the dry erase board, looking around the drab classroom, with its unsightly pea-green wainscoting and dingy white upper walls. My eyes settled on one of my brightest students, Hannah, seated at her table with one arm up in the air.

"Yes, Hannah, what is it?" I asked, smiling.

"Uh, well," she mumbled, tucking her long blonde hair behind her ear as her eyes darted aimlessly. "Um, I think you misspelled the word defense. Isn't it spelled with a 'c'?"

I looked back at the board, my eyes scanning it to find the word in question. I had written the word "defense" in my instructions to the students for their persuasive essay assignment, explaining the importance of using supporting material in defense of the thesis statement. Sure enough, I had absentmindedly spelled it the American way, thanks to my ever-wandering mind.

"Well done, Hannah. You are absolutely correct."

My students must think their American teacher is a complete idiot. I felt compelled to explain my error, attempting to salvage any respect they might have had for me before I misspelled a word that any British child should know.

"You see, in the United States some words are spelled differently than they are here in England. Sometimes I forget and revert to the American spelling." I laughed at myself, erasing the offending word and writing it correctly. "Thanks for setting me straight, Hannah."

Her nervousness at correcting her teacher vanished, replaced with a wide smile and twinkling blue eyes.

Roy's hand shot into the air. Of course, it did. I had come to expect it multiple times during each class period. I had probably showered too much attention on Hannah for his liking.

"Yes, Roy?"

"Miss Swan, what are some other words that are spelled differently in America?" he asked curiously.

Roy was an eager, smart, and adorable seventh grader who had latched onto me like a bee to honey when I'd arrived at St. Andrew's Preparatory School in Eastbourne six weeks ago. Perhaps his fascination with me was only because I was from America, but my gut told me there was some "crushing" mixed into the equation as well. He often stayed after class to ask me questions or accompanied me as I walked to the office or the teacher's lounge in between classes.

"A curious mind is always a good thing, Roy, but right now that subject is off the topic at hand. For those of you who would like to hear the answer to Roy's question, see me after class."

I turned back to the board, pointing to the due date of the assignment. "Your essay topic and outline are due on Wednesday. I will return them to you on Thursday, letting you know if your topic has been approved. Any questions?"

I scanned the small classroom, looking for raised hands, but all I saw were sixteen 12-year-olds staring at me anxiously, notebooks in hand and ready to bolt from the room as soon as I said the magic words. "You're dismissed," I said with a chuckle.

A mass of gray blurred across the room and out the door faster than I could blink. The room was now empty except for the handsome young man at my side, looking ever the proper British school boy.

Like all St. Andrew's male students, Roy wore navy slacks and a burgundy oxford beneath a charcoal v-neck sweater, accented with burgundy stripes, framing the v and circling the cuffs. The girls wore the same tops, but instead of trousers, they had pleated gray skirts with burgundy and gray knee-socks.

I have to make a conscious effort to call them trousers rather than pants or else risk complete disruption of my lesson while my students laugh hysterically. It was during my first week at St. Andrew's that I learned that pants means underwear to my British students. I may have turned three shades of red when one of my students explained this to me.

Roy walked with me as we left the classroom, and I shared with him some of the words that are spelled differently in the States. Since arriving at St. Andrew's, I had developed a soft spot in my heart for Roy. Some students went home every weekend, but he was one of the full-timers, going home only on holidays. He seemed lonely and hungry for attention, so I happily obliged him. He had a keen intellect beyond his young years, and though at times he could be annoying, always wanting to be around me, most of the time I enjoyed our conversations.

Walking through the main hallway, we stopped to greet Fudge, the school's yellow Labrador Retriever who could usually be found sleeping in the foyer or wandering the main hall looking for scratches and head pats. I thought it was a wonderful thing that the school had a dog so that children living away from home could have some aspect of a normal childhood by loving and being loved by a pet.

"How are you, big boy?" I said cheerfully, scratching behind Fudge's ear while Roy petted his back. Fudge's tail wagged furiously, and as I began to step away, he nuzzled my hand, licking it in protest of my departure. "Gotta go, Fudge. And I'll see you tomorrow, Roy. Enjoy the rest of your day."

Roy smiled as he always did. "Thanks, Miss Swan. See ya." He headed toward the exit to join the other students outside on the playground.

I gave Fudge one last pat before turning to go out a different door which led outside to the teacher's lounge in a separate building. I folded my arms, rubbing them with my hands in an attempt to create warmth before opening the exterior door. I always left my coat in the teacher's lounge since it's only a fifteen second walk between buildings, and I don't want to mess with hauling it around from room to room. My taupe turtleneck sweater and brown wool trousers would not be enough to fend off the English winter wind.

As I pushed open the door, the jolt of the cutting wind was like jumping into an ice cold swimming pool. I ran as quickly as I could in my high-heeled boots, flinging open the door to the teacher's lounge. I darted inside, breathing heavily and red-cheeked, too, no doubt.

"Hey, Bella," Victoria greeted with a smile. She sat on one of the couches, papers scattered across the coffee table in front of her, obviously busy with grading. "I'm glad you're here. I want a full report on your traveling adventures."

Victoria was my mentor teacher at St. Andrew's, the one responsible for overseeing my lesson plans, assisting me with any student problems, and writing evaluations of my teaching ability to send to my professor at A.S.U. Over the past six weeks, we had become friends, enjoying many conversations outside of the realm of teaching.

"Okay, but first I need coffee and one of those amazing tarts." I made a beeline to the snack area complete with tea, coffee, and uniquely British snacks. "I'm dragging today. A sugar and caffeine combo should do the trick."

I poured a cup of coffee, stirring in sugar and cream, and grabbed a tart before settling onto the couch next to Victoria. I bit into the pastry, making yummy noises, and mumbled mostly to myself about how I'd miss my daily tart when I left England.

"Where's Alice?" Victoria inquired, sliding her brown, tortoise-shell glasses onto her slicked back, auburn hair, its length knotted at the back in a chignon.

Her question caught me mid-bite. Covering my mouth, I mumbled, "Um, she has playground duty this week."

While Victoria half-heartedly graded papers, I reluctantly complied, regaling her with a summary of my European adventures, minus Edward and Emmett. Even though I'd changed my attitude about meeting Edward, now being grateful for the experience, that appreciation was submerged in a vat of longing, with just a sprinkle of melancholy. The week of traveling had left me physically and emotionally exhausted. Plus, the topic of Edward had already been discussed ad nauseam with Alice.

"It sounds like you and Alice had a fabulous time. So out of all the places you visited, which city was your favorite?" Victoria probed.

I settled into the softness of the sofa, sipping my coffee as memories of Florence flickered through my consciousness like a movie trailer–standing in front of the Statue of David, Edward's warm breath whispering in my ear that "there is no comparison"; the joy on Edward's face as he belly laughed while quoting Ace Ventura; his massive hands gently cradling my face while kissing me; and the wetness in his eyes when he told me he couldn't do a relationship.

"Florence." I sighed wistfully.

"Florence was your favorite city?" Victoria confirmed.

I felt her eyes on me, and I focused my attention on my coffee. I nodded, taking another drink to avoid her eyes.

"Then why do you look like you're about to cry, Bella?"

My head snapped up, my eyes meeting Victoria's. "What? I do?" I blurted, feeling vulnerable and unexpectedly exposed.

Victoria nodded, smiling warmly and reassuringly.

I sighed in resignation. "Okay, the short version is that I met someone. We spent a few days together, and it was intense. But he doesn't want anything more than that. He didn't want to stay in touch."

"And you met him in Florence?"

"No, but that's where we spent the most time together.

That's where I let my wall down . . . and let myself . . . fall for him."

I paused in reflection, setting my coffee on the table before turning to Victoria. "I shouldn't have, but I honestly don't think I had a choice. It was sort of automatic . . . natural."

The door swung open, interrupting our heavy chat. Alice was bundled like a mummy in her coat, gloves, and hat, with a scarf wrapped around her face, exposing only her eyes.

She yanked the scarf down, bellowing, "Holy hell, I need to go back to the Valley of the Sun. Bella, I'll pay you twenty bucks if you cover playground duty for me tomorrow."

"Hell no!" I grimaced.

"Okay, fifty bucks?" she pleaded.

"Seriously? Fifty dollars?"

Alice nodded her head furiously. "Yes, I'm serious as a fuc . . . as a heart attack." Her eyes darted to Victoria. "Uh, hey, Victoria," she greeted sheepishly.

Victoria chuckled. "Hey, Alice."

"Okay, wimp, you've got a deal. Fifty dollars it is." I grinned triumphantly.

Alice thanked me and dashed to the snack table, inhaling a couple of tarts as we had only a couple of minutes before we had to be back in our respective classrooms. The three of us walked to the main building, chattering about the upcoming lesson plan that Victoria wanted me and Alice to team-teach.

The remainder of the day passed uneventfully. I kept myself busy teaching, answering students' questions, directing some hyper-active students to stay on task, and grading papers. I was grateful to be back at work where I was forced to focus my attention on things other than . . . _him_.

When my last class dispersed, I gathered up my teaching materials and my students' worksheets that still needed to be graded, stuffing everything into my backpack. I headed down to the school's foyer where I always met Alice at the end of the day.

She was already there, sitting on the couch with a familiar dog sleeping at her feet. She hopped up as I approached, alerting Fudge who sleepily stood to greet me. We each gave his furry ears a quick scratch goodbye, put on our gloves, buttoned up our coats, and wrapped our scarves tightly before heading out the door into the glacial East Sussex wind.

As we crossed the street, I glanced back at the school simply just because I loved the look of it. It wasn't like any school I'd ever seen. It was a charmingly quaint, aged house straight from the pages of a British novel, made of red brick and multi-colored stones. The literary geek in me had done mental happy cartwheels when I saw St. Andrew's on our first day.

The commute from Eastbourne to Falmer was tedious, tiring, and bone-chillingly cold. We walked one block to wait for the city bus, which wasn't terribly far, but then we had to wait in freezing temperatures for five to ten minutes until the bus arrived. Two bus exchanges and thirty minutes later, we arrived at the Eastbourne train station. After more waiting, we boarded the train bound for Falmer.

We came to a stop thirty minutes later at the Falmer train station, situated just down the hill beneath our college campus–home, sweet home. We silently trudged uphill along the concrete pathway, leading from the station to the Falmer campus, still bundled tightly and shivering uncontrollably by the time we reached our dormitory.

The dark gray, flat-roofed dormitories were a bit run-down, but they held a certain aged and cozy appeal. Our rooms on the second floor were just three doors apart.

I'd been relieved when we had first arrived at the college and learned that students had private rooms. Granted, they were as small as a crackerjack box, but I didn't care as long as I had my own space. As much of a people-person as I am, I also require Bella-time on a daily basis.

Alice is the complete opposite–she gets antsy if she's by herself for too long. We'd talked about this, about how she doesn't like being left alone with her thoughts. She tended to be a worrier, always analyzing, thinking of worse-case scenarios, and so she preferred to stay busy and occupied. I not only enjoyed being left alone with my thoughts, but it was a necessity. Solitude was as revitalizing to me as sleep. I found peace in writing poetry, reading, and listening to music. And I mean listening to it with your soul, which you can't really do when people are around. Or I'd contemplate my goals and analyze myself as a human being. Yeah, deep stuff.

"Meet you in five?" Alice mumbled, unlocking the door to her room.

I continued down the hall toward my room, rummaging in my backpack for my keys. "Yep, see ya in a bit."

Once inside the coziness of my crackerjack box, I tossed my backpack on the desk. After peeling off all my outer layers, I collapsed on the bed to catch my breath. I rested for a couple minutes, wishing I could just go to sleep for the night, but I knew I'd be starving later, and the cafeteria would only be open for another thirty minutes.

Plus, I had papers to grade and a lesson plan to prepare. Groaning, I forced my tired body out of bed, ran a brush through my hat hair, grabbed my keys, and headed down the hallway to the shared bathroom. When I came out a couple of minutes later, Alice was waiting for me once again.

"Ready for some delicious British cuisine?" She smirked.

I rolled my eyes, smiling. "Oh, yeah, I really missed the cafeteria food while we were gone." We chuckled together, amusing ourselves with our witty sarcasm.

"Thank god they have french fries every night!" Alice added.

As we pushed open the dormitory door, without a word, we ran full speed toward the cafeteria. Neither of us had brought a coat, choosing to brave the cold for the thirty seconds it took to sprint to the other building.

Arriving at the cafeteria shortly before closing meant that we didn't have to wait in line, but it also meant less than fresh food as it had already been sitting in the warming trays for two hours. Once seated, I cautiously poked at the mystery meat on my plate. _I don't freaking think so. _I opted for the French fries, salad, and cake.

After dinner, per usual, Alice and I dashed next door to the computer lab. International long distance calls were expensive, so we kept them to a minimum, instead using email as our main method of communication with our friends and family back in the States. I had been so tired when we got back last night that I hadn't made it over to the computer lab.

After arriving in Paris on the night train, we'd caught another train to Calais, then ferried over to Dover, and then we'd taken another goddamn train to Falmer. We were dumbasses to cram in so much traveling, not allowing ourselves even one day to recuperate before returning to teaching.

After finding two unoccupied computers side by side, I accessed my email account, anxious for contact with home. Besides an assload of spam, there was an email from my mom and one from Angela, my dearest childhood friend.

We had met in second grade and went through elementary, junior high, and high school together. Seven years after high school graduation we were still close friends. Always preferring bad news first, I opened my mom's message. Even if it wasn't bad news, most likely whatever she had to say would be neurotic and narcissistic, putting me in a bad mood. I scanned the message quickly, my heart sinking as I read that my brother, Seth, was missing again. _My god, will it ever end?_

My baby brother, who technically wasn't a baby anymore, though he acts like one, is a meth addict. Being three years younger than me and having a mom who was barely capable of taking care of herself, I had instinctively assumed a protective, motherly role toward Seth. I was the one who taught him to tie his shoelaces, helped him with his homework, and made him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches when he was hungry. I utterly adored him.

Then all hell broke loose when he was about fifteen. I know it happens all the time, especially at that age. Kids hang out with the wrong friends, wanting to feel valued and part of something. Seth started drinking, smoking weed, failing classes, and, generally, not giving a shit about his life or his family. It was the classically sad story that we've all heard countless times before–how minor drug use escalates to hardcore stuff, like cocaine and meth.

Seth ended up dropping out of school during his junior year, eventually moving out and sofa surfing from one friend's couch to another. I use the term "friends" rather loosely–the friends in question were drug buddies and suppliers.

The next few years were a rollercoaster of emotions. Most of the time Mom and I didn't know where Seth was or if he was even still alive. Then he'd call, asking for help, telling Mom how his friend had kicked him out and he was sleeping on the streets. Mom always let him come home, believing his promises that he was ready to get clean. He'd be at home for a couple of weeks, and then he'd disappear again. Sometimes he would call every week or so to check in, but other times we wouldn't hear from him for months at a time. Then one day he'd called Mom from jail–he had been arrested for forgery.

Apparently, he had charmed his way into the life of some chick he'd met on some social network site. He had lifted some of her checks, forging her signature to get cash for drugs. Of course, he swore to Mom that he didn't do it. He never did _anything_. There was always an excuse, an explanation, a story.

He was a good-looking guy, musically-gifted on guitar, and he was beyond charming. Everyone liked Seth. He could talk his way into or out of just about anything, except with me. After a few years of denial, I had finally caught on, accepting that Seth had become a professional liar. I had no doubts that he was guilty–if he was capable of stealing his big sister's heirloom ring from Grandma Swan, he was certainly capable of stealing checks from some broad he was banging.

Seth served ten months in prison for his crime. Upon his release, he was sober and repentant, vowing he was ready to get his shit together. Mom let him move back home, and after three months of holding down a job and pleasantly interacting with us, I began to feel a glimmer of hope. When I'd left Phoenix, he was still doing well.

I continued reading the email looking for more information, but it was rather vague, just saying that Seth hadn't come home one night about a week ago. Tears stung my eyes as I contemplated the possibilities.

There could only be two explanations for his disappearance, both of which were revolting: Seth was either dead, or he was on drugs again. _Just fucking great. _I didn't know what the hell to write back to my mom because I wasn't even sure how I felt.

I placed my elbows on the table, resting my weary head on my hands as anger, sadness, and apathy coursed through me. Um, yeah, I said apathy. That sounds despicable, I know, but after years of caring so damn much, having my hopes lifted and then crushed time and time again, an apathetic numbness began taking over. That might sound like I've given up on my brother, and maybe part of me has, but only as an involuntary and innate need to protect my battered and betrayed heart.

"Are you okay?" Alice whispered, gently rubbing my hunched over shoulder.

"It's Seth." I sat up straight, pulling my hair away from my face. "I'll tell you about it later, okay?"

She nodded with a sympathetic smile, returning her attention to the computer in front of her.

I typed out a quick reply to my mom telling her that I was sad to hear about Seth and to keep me posted if she should hear from him. What the hell else was there to say? Naturally, Mom wanted to hear all about my recent travels, so I wrote a paragraph just hitting the highlights of our trip, minus Edward, of course.

I eagerly clicked on Angela's email quite certain that it would cheer me up. Because Angela hadn't put college on hold to work and support a husband–like _some_ people _(cough, cough)_–she was already a college graduate, working as a civil engineer.

Her email made me laugh out loud as I read about her new coworker who repeatedly challenged her knowledge and expertise. She explained how she would flirt with him one minute and then humiliate him the next by outshining him in meetings. I typed out an email back to her, encouraging her to continue messing with this douche bag's head. I provided her the same short version of my recent travels, deciding to wait and share the saga of Edward with her when I returned home.

I nudged Alice, whispering, "How's Jasper?"

She hesitated, appearing pensive. "He misses me. He's supportive, he's wonderful. He's the perfect friend," she said matter-of-factly with a frown.

"Do you miss him?"

"I do miss him but like you'd miss a friend. Like I would miss you."

"You're still thinking about Emmett?"

Alice sighed. "Yeah, and I hope I get my shit figured out before it's time to go home."

"Speaking of Emmett, I just remembered I wanted to try to find that magazine article he wrote about Edward being awarded a medal."

"Oh, I forgot about that," Alice said smiling, with a little more pep in her voice.

She pulled her chair closer to mine as I typed into the internet browser: _Edward Cullen Emmett McCarty._ The first listing on the results page displayed both Emmett's and Edward's name.

"This must be it," I mumbled, clicking on the link. When I saw the picture on the screen, I sucked in a quick intake of air, gasping, feeling a surge of adrenaline.

It was an official Army photo of Edward in a full-dress, navy blue uniform. His ethereal beauty combined with the masculine authority of the uniform was breathtaking.

"Breathe, Bella, breathe." Alice chuckled teasingly. I ignored her because I was already reading the first paragraph of the _Reader's Digest's _article that had been published seven months ago.

_Who in the world would voluntarily walk away from a luxurious lifestyle, leaving behind a powerful position as Vice-President of Acquisitions and Mergers at international conglomerate, Cullen Industries, Inc., to enlist in the U.S. Army just as the United States is preparing a full-scale war assault on Iraq? Two words: Edward Cullen. _

_Just three months after the 9/11 attacks on America, Edward Cullen, who had never before contemplated a military career, walked into his local U.S. Army recruiting office in Seattle, Washington and signed over his life to the military for the next four years. As difficult as it is for most Americans to comprehend that kind of sacrifice, to Cullen the decision was elementary. He explains, "It's simple, really. America was attacked on its own soil. If they would do that to us once, they would probably try it again in the future. I believed our lives and our freedom were at stake. What would have been the outcome of the Revolutionary War if men had been unwilling to fight? And World War II? Same thing. It sounds cliché, but I felt it was my duty as an American to participate in defending her and helping to ensure that nothing like 9/11 ever happens again."_

_As a Columbia University graduate, Cullen was able to begin his military career as an officer. Seven months after enlisting, having completed Basic Training and Officer Candidate School, Second Lieutenant Cullen was en route to volatile Iraq for the first of what would ultimately be three tours of duty. _

_He is slow to talk about his experiences in Iraq except when asked about Specialist James Winters, who died in the battle that earned Cullen the Distinguished Service Cross, 'the second highest military decoration that can be awarded to a member of the United States Army, for extreme gallantry and risk of life in actual combat with an armed enemy force.'_

"_Specialist Winters was one of the bravest and most skilled soldiers in my platoon," Cullen eagerly divulges. "He was also a husband, a father, and a loyal friend–my friend. His loss is inconceivable and devastating. He's my hero."_

_However, the U.S. Army seems to think that Cullen is the hero, awarding him the Distinguished Service Cross in 2004. When this is pointed out to Cullen, he becomes clearly uncomfortable, even irritated. "That medal belongs to James. I gave nothing; he gave everything - his life."_

_When Cullen says the medal belongs to Specialist James Winters, he means that quite literally. During an interview with Specialist Winters' widow, Lauren Winters, she revealed that Cullen paid her a visit shortly after his honorable discharge from the Army. Mrs. Winters explained that Cullen came to express his condolences, to share with her some stories about her husband, and to give her the Distinguished Cross Medal, saying that it belonged to James, not to him. Though the medal itself is in the possession of Mrs. Winters, the official summary of events published by the U.S. Army, leaves no doubt that Cullen demonstrated heroic actions:_

'**The President of the United States takes pleasure in presenting the Silver Star Medal to Edward Cullen, First Lieutenant, U.S. Army, for heroism and valor under intense enemy fire while serving with the 4th Brigade, 5th Battalion, 82nd Artillery Division, in action on April 18, 2004, in Iraq. First Lieutenant Cullen's courage, tactical competence, and exemplary combat leadership in support of Operation IRAQI FREEDOM in Iraq resulted in the destruction of countless enemy dismounts and equipment, ensuring the success of the Troop and Squadron, culminating in the collapse of the Iraqi Regime. His actions reflect great credit upon himself, the 4th Brigade, 5th Battalion, 82nd Artillery Division, and the United States Army. **

**For heroism in connection with military operations against a hostile force in Iraq in support of Operation IRAQI FREEDOM, First Lieutenant Cullen distinguished himself while serving as the Platoon Leader for 4th Brigade, 5th Battalion, 82nd Artillery Division. On 18 April 2004, at approximately 1400 Hrs, First Lieutenant Cullen's troop traveled into an enemy ambush southeast of the city of An Najaf. The entire troop was surrounded by enemy small arms fire, RPG attacks and artillery from all directions. As two tanks from 2d platoon were hit and began to burn, B44 became mired, and First Lieutenant Cullen directed his crew on B4 and the crew of his wingman, B3, to recover B4. While B3 and the remainder of B4's crew recovered the tank, First Lieutenant Cullen and Sergeant Bailey went to offer aid to the crews that had been hit and were now out of their vehicles seeking cover on the North side of the road. Keeping a vigilant eye on his surroundings and laying suppressive fire in the direction of the heaviest enemy fire, First Lieutenant Cullen noticed a comrade, later identified as Specialist James Winters, laying incapacitated in the middle of the street. First Lieutenant Cullen left cover and ran into the kill zone, covering his comrade's body with his own, while returning fire on the enemy before dragging the wounded man to a safe zone. Again, surveying the battle scene, First Lieutenant Cullen noticed that the driver of B23 was not able to get out of his tank because of burning debris on the front slope of the tank. First Lieutenant Cullen then directed his gunner and the Platoon Sergeant from 3d platoon to cover him, as he made his way to the burning tank. Giving no regard for the enemy mortar rounds that were falling directly on his position or the ground around him being peppered with AK-47 rounds, First Lieutenant Cullen extinguished the fire on the front slope of the burning tank and pulled the driver out, preventing the driver from succumbing to deadly fumes from within the hull. After First Lieutenant Cullen had accountability of all members from the two destroyed tanks, he and his crew treated them to the best of their ability and immediately evacuated them to medics in the rear utilizing his sister platoon's Bradleys.'**

I rubbed my eyes and cheeks with my hands, wiping away the streaming tears threatening to drop onto the keyboard at any moment. It was all almost too much to process: feelings of awe at Edward's heroism and bravery; sadness, imagining his grief at losing his friend; and a painful and growing longing to see him again.

Alice quietly interrupted my conflicted thought process. "So, James, his friend, was the soldier wounded in the street that Edward covered with his body and pulled out of the kill zone." Alice said with a questioning tone.

I nodded.

"And then he died anyway?"

I nodded again, unable to speak, seemingly shocked into silence.

"Holy hell. I can't imagine. I mean, if I saw you hurt and dying right in front of me, and then I tried to save you, maybe even thought I had saved you . . . and then you still died–" she muttered, shaking her head.

I couldn't even articulate a response. Internally, I was reeling, and I knew I might completely lose control of my emotions if I spoke. Alice intuitively understood, seemingly not expecting a balanced dialogue.

I turned my attention back to the article, which went on to pay tribute to James, detailing his childhood and hobbies, with a few flattering quotes by members of the platoon who knew him well. Toward the end, it said that Edward was later promoted to rank of Captain before he was honorably discharged last year.

I printed the article, including the picture of Edward. I walked across the room, grabbed the papers from the printer and glanced over them quickly to ensure they printed properly. My gaze settled for a few seconds on the picture of Captain Cullen, soldier and hero.

I walked to the door, and then turned back toward Alice. "I'm going to turn in for the night, Al," I mumbled, wiping at my still damp eyes. "We'll talk about all this tomorrow, okay?" I said it as a statement, waving the article in the air.

"I understand, hon. I'm still writing Jasper back, so I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay, goodnight then."

Walking to my dorm, I was nearly oblivious to the biting wind nipping at my exposed skin, my entire consciousness focused on processing the information that I'd just learned about Edward. I was absolutely in awe of him. Not many people would walk away from wealth and prestige to go fight a war in a sweltering desert across the world, knowing there was a good chance they'd be killed.

Once in my room, I pulled out the papers I needed to grade before tomorrow, settling in at my desk with red pen in hand. I got through five essays before the pull to look at Edward's picture overtook me again. I stared at it, losing myself in conflicted thoughts about the acts that had earned him a medal.

A part of me was awestruck, contemplating Edward's humility and bravery, how he'd put his life on the line, not once but twice as he tried to save his comrades. I hated to admit it, but my womanly self was a bit aroused at the thought of Edward shooting at the enemy and being responsible for an entire platoon of soldiers, directing them throughout the battle.

But those feelings were dwarfed by fear and panic at the thought of Edward having been in such imminent danger. I read the description of the battle again, tearing up as I imagined Edward placing himself in the kill zone with bullets and mortars flying around. Though, of course, I knew he had survived and would never have to return to the warzone, the idea alone of how close he'd come to being killed, probably on other occasions as well, left me tearful and trembling.

I stapled the pages of the article together, sliding it into an empty folder and then into my backpack, so I could find it tomorrow during my breaks. It was now my only remaining connection to Edward, and I accepted that I would probably have the entire article memorized before long. Edward had said that being with him would require too much–that he wouldn't ask it of me. I could only assume the "it" he referred to was dealing with his lingering psychological issues, specifically Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, according to Emmett.

I knew a little about the disorder, but as I sat at my desk thinking, I suddenly felt a need to know everything about it. I thought about going back to the computer room to research it, but I grudgingly pushed back at the impulse to do so, reminding myself that I needed to finish grading papers, look over my lesson plan for tomorrow, and get some much needed rest. I made a mental note to use the computer lab at St. Andrew's during my breaks to learn more about PTSD.

Though I felt a compulsion to understand Edward and what he was dealing with, I wasn't in denial of the facts. I knew that Edward had come and gone from my life of his own choosing, and I would likely never see him again. But love is rarely rational, and it urged me to connect with Edward in whatever way I could–through memories, by looking at his picture, or by better understanding his demons. And then, by some miracle, if Edward ever changed his mind about being with me, I would be ready for him and better prepared to love him as he deserved to be loved.

* * *

**Long-ass A/N: If you are unfamiliar with military ranks, the article about Edward being awarded a medal might be confusing. To clarify, when Edward graduated from Officer Candidate School and began his military career in 2002, he was a Second Lieutenant, which is the beginning rank for an officer. By the time the battle occurred in 2004 in which he earned the medal, he had been promoted to First Lieutenant. By the time Emmett wrote the magazine article, after Edward was honorably discharged from the Army, he had been promoted to rank of Captain. **

**Also, please note that the description of the act that earned Edward a medal was not written by me. I took it verbatim from an actual official description of an event in which a medal was awarded by the U.S. Army. I should have referenced the article, but I can't seem to put my fingers on it now. However, the article written by Emmett is my creation.**

**Some of you are still missing Edward. I promise–Edward will be back very soon!**

**To see pictures that accompany each chapter, including this one, visit one of the following:**

**Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. **

**For photos and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL - **

**/groups/281151482005898/**

**Then request to be added to the group.**


	11. Better Than Banana Baileys Bread Butter

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

* * *

**Chapter 11 – Better Than Banana and Baileys Bread and Butter Pudding**

"Oh, my god, I'm so excited to go to Brighton. I have this amazing Brighton handbag, but I left it back in the States. It's red leather with silver hearts on it, and it came with a matching silver keychain. You've heard of the Brighton company, right? They make jewelry, belts, purses with silver hearts and stuff."

Alice and I glared at Jessica as she word-vomited without taking a breath. She was a run-on sentence personified. We were just five minutes into the drive to Brighton, and she had talked throughout every second of it. Her pale brown hair hung in subtle waves a few inches below her shoulders, held away from her face with a black headband. Behind her ever-moving lips were teeth so white and straight, they could probably sell toothpaste. I stared at them as she yammered on, grateful that it was only a fifteen minute drive to Brighton.

For a small fee, the college sponsored weekend trips for students, providing a van and a college employee as our tour guide. One of my favorite weekend trips had been going to Bodiam Castle, which was like something straight out of a storybook, complete with a moat and drawbridge. Another time we'd visited the Battle Abbey where the Battle of Hastings took place in 1066. There were so many amazing things to see that were all within an hour or two from the college.

This weekend the destination was Brighton, a seaside town on the English Channel, after which we would finish the day at a little village named Alfriston.

Jessica was _still_ talking about Brighton–the store, not the city. "I wish they weren't so expensive though 'cause I would so buy like everything in the store." She grabbed Alice's arm excitedly. "Oh, my god. We _have_ to find a Brighton store when we get there. Even though I can't buy anything, I just love looking."

Alice smiled, speaking in her nicest voice, "Um, Jessica, Brighton is an American company. It doesn't have anything to do with Brighton, England. I don't think you're going to find a Brighton store in Brighton."

"Oh, really? Darn it. I really wanted to see their newest handbags," she whined, popping her gum between words.

Alice rolled her eyes at me, and I smiled back, suppressing the giggles erupting inside. Jessica was a nice enough girl–she just didn't know when to stop talking. We tolerated her because she really did have a good heart, and she was all alone in a foreign country, away from her family in Kansas. That would be a little daunting even for me, and I was four years older than Jessica. Since she often sat with us in the Falmer cafeteria, it was clear after our first meal together that she was short on common sense. I was relieved when I'd learned that she was an elementary education major. Teenagers would tear her up with her airhead tendencies, but surely she could handle second graders.

We arrived in Brighton none too soon. Even if Jessica tagged along with us, which I knew she would, at least we'd be out of the confined space of the van, and I could tune her out more easily. Our college advisor aka van driver, Jan, handed us a list of things to do in Brighton, instructing us to meet back at the van no later than 1:30.

Off we went with Jessica in tow, beginning at the Royal Pavilion. Never having seen pictures of it, I was more than surprised to see the pavilion looked like a Taj Mahal wanna-be. Not expecting East Indian architecture in a British town, the Royal Pavilion was amusingly conspicuous.

As we approached the entrance to purchase admission tickets, Alice pulled her gloves off, stuffing them in her pockets. "Why is it called a pavilion anyway? That is so the wrong word."

Jessica looked confused, per usual. "Why? What does pavilion mean?"

Alice rolled her eyes for the tenth time this morning, ignoring Jessica as she stepped to the window to pay admission.

I mustered up all my patience and compassion. "Jess, at least in the States, a pavilion refers to an outdoor structure, like a gazebo or those ramada type things in parks."

"Ohh! Then this is definitely not a pavilion. It should be called the Royal Palace."

"Maybe they thought that Royal Palace sounded too generic? Or maybe pavilion means something different here," I suggested.

We toured the palace or pavilion or whatever it was within an hour. It was everything a palace should be–extravagant, ornate, colorful, and breathtakingly gorgeous. The décor reflected the exterior's East Indian influence, mingled with Chinese designs in the rich hues of gold, blue, and burnt sienna.

Afterwards, we headed to the shopping district, complaining about how we were all flat broke and vowing to each other that we would browse but not buy. I loved how the shops ran together, one after another, all in the same tall, ornate buildings. They reminded me of brownstones in New York City, each unit connected. We perused a bookstore, a cosmetics boutique, and some knick-knack type shops.

The smell of salt in the air and the squawking seagulls told us we had made our way close to the ocean. The wind picked up substantially as we came out from behind the buildings onto the boardwalk. Whipping up off of the icy waters of the English Channel, the airstream cut through my layers and blew into my sensitive ears. I quickly wrapped my plaid scarf around my head, protecting my ears.

Even though we'd promised each other we wouldn't buy anything, postcards don't count because they're cheap, and it's an unwritten traveling rule that you must buy a postcard in every city you visit. So we stopped at a little shop on the boardwalk, purchasing some postcards that showcased the highlights of Brighton.

As we moseyed along the promenade, I inhaled deeply, luxuriating in the fresh ocean air. I couldn't breathe like that in Phoenix without gagging on smog and dust particles. Letting the brisk air fill my lungs, I couldn't help but smile to myself, mentally embracing the peace brought by the wind on my face, the noise of the seagulls circling above us, and the beauty of the pier against the backdrop of rolling waves.

"Fish and chips!" Alice squealed.

I looked up and saw a bright blue sign with white lettering: _Fish and Chips–Eat In or Take Away._

"Yes, yes, yes! Fresh fried fish? I'm all over that," I said excitedly.

I'd grown up fishing with my dad during my summer visits to Forks. My dad taught me how to bait my own hook, how to fillet a fish, and how to fry them up. Dad had the best recipe for the breading, which he made with cornmeal instead of flour. Sometimes I think those summers in Forks were my saving grace, balancing out the crazy I lived with nine months out of each year.

"Sounds good to me. I'm so hungry," Jessica chimed in.

A royal blue awning jutted out from the white building, sheltering the plastic table and chairs sitting outside. That would be perfect spot to eat in the summer, but right now we needed a reprieve from the wind.

As we entered the store, I relished in the warmth. Within a few minutes, we were seated and silently scarfing down our lunch. I'm used to freshwater fish from the river in Forks, and clearly this was saltwater fish, probably very recently caught. I had no idea what kind it was, but it was so much better than the trout my dad and I caught in the Quillayute River. The white meat was flaky, tender, and moist, contrasting deliciously in my mouth with the crispy breading. _Holy hell! This is so yummy_, I mentally moaned. The chips were freshly fried, making the cafeteria chips that I ate daily, pale in comparison.

Returning to the van at the end of our Brighton excursion, Jessica got in first, settling into the row of seats in the back. Alice and I politely and purposefully allowed a couple of girls to go ahead of us, which meant that they sat in the seats next to Jessica. I sighed in relief as we snagged the seats in the front, placing us two rows ahead of her. I hoped it didn't hurt her feelings, but for the love of god, I needed a break from her incessant, mindless rambling. Plus, I wanted to talk to Alice about the research I'd done on PTSD, and that was not going to happen with yappy lips around.

I had gathered some psychological information about PTSD a little at a time throughout the busy week, sharing tidbits with Alice during school breaks and in the evenings, but since the week had been so busy with papers to grade and lessons to prepare, we hadn't had a substantial conversation for a while.

Once the van was back on the highway headed toward Alfriston, I pulled my notes from my backpack. "So I think I know just about everything about Post Traumatic Stress Disorder now . . . at least in theory."

"And does that make you feel hopeful or worried about Edward's future?"

I thought about that for a minute. "Both, I think. Well, I wouldn't say worried. I feel sad when I read about the symptoms, knowing that Edward is suffering, probably dealing with nightmares and flashbacks. But I feel hopeful because there is treatment available that has been very successful. Who knows if he'll ever reach out for help though."

"Okay, so educate me. I'm all ears."

"Well, let's see, the symptom that most people are familiar with, thanks to Hollywood movies, is the flashback. There are triggers, like a sound or something they see, that causes them to relive the traumatic event. It's so real that they feel the same fear and horror as when the event took place. Reliving the event can happen when awake or asleep, in the form of nightmares. The next symptom listed is avoiding situations or people that remind you of the traumatic event. That includes being unwilling to talk about what happened."

"Well, no shit!" Alice scoffed. "Of course you're going to avoid anything that would trigger reliving a horror scene."

Even when talking about something serious, Alice's sarcasm forced me to laugh. "I know, right?" I chuckled. "It's human nature to avoid pain. But that's the thing –the newest research shows that avoidance actually exacerbates the problem. Therapists have begun using exposure therapy with a lot of success."

"I've heard of that," Alice said. "I saw this Dateline NBC show about people with phobias. There was this woman who was terrified to drive. I think she'd been in a car accident or something. I don't remember. So the treatment was for her to face her fear by driving a car. They actually put things in the road for her to drive over, simulating hitting something because that's what she was afraid of."

"Yeah, that's it exactly. They use exposure therapy with OCD patients, too. Like people who are terrified of germs–they force them to touch things, dirty, nasty things, to prove to them that nothing bad will happen to them."

"So how do they use exposure therapy with PTSD patients?" Alice asked.

"Well, talking about the traumatic event is one aspect of the treatment. By verbalizing the experience, they relive the trauma, facing their fear head on. Another technique is to actually show the person war images on a monitor, most likely horrific images. This desensitizes them to the traumatic event so it doesn't hold so much power over them anymore."

"I would imagine a lot of people aren't willing to do be subjected to that. I mean, it would be extremely difficult to willingly place yourself in a situation where you are exposed to your worst fears."

I nodded. "Exactly. Many just suffer in silence for the rest of their lives, but we're getting ahead of ourselves here. Back to the symptoms. Okay, so some PTSD sufferers also find it hard to express their feelings, and they avoid relationships."

I paused, grimacing as I muttered, "Um, yeah, I'm all too aware of that one. Their negative emotions from the trauma are so painful, they kind of turn everything off and go numb. Sometimes they may not be interested in activities they used to enjoy. They just kind of shut down all emotions, not consciously, of course. It's just an automatic coping mechanism. Another symptom is feeling keyed up a lot of the time, like they are on alert for danger. This can cause them to have difficulty concentrating, sleeping, and make them irritable or even angry with the people around them."

"Ugh, that doesn't sound good." Alice wrinkled her nose. "Bella, I know you don't want to hear this, but perhaps Edward is being smart about not subjecting you, or any woman, to that kind of fuckedupness."

"Perhaps, but it's neither here nor there since he didn't give me a choice in the matter." I groaned, stuffing the papers into my backpack. "Look, it's irrelevant because he already made the choice to be alone."

Pausing momentarily in thought, I added, "But if I was given a choice . . . yes, I would join him in his fuckedupness. I'm not a teenager with a crush who thinks love can conquer all. I know it would be difficult dealing with something like this, but as long as he was willing to get treatment, I would choose to be there for him, to support him and love him."

"You love him?" Alice whispered, seemingly taken aback.

I lowered my head slightly, somewhat embarrassed. I hadn't meant to say that aloud. "I know it sounds ridiculous. It sounds like I really am a teenager with a crush, right? I barely know him. We only had a few days together, but . . . it's like I know him on another level. I'm not sure if it's a spiritual thing or energy or chemistry, but whatever the hell it is, at the very least, I think that I _could_ love him. I already adore him."

"I believe you, and it's not ridiculous. Did I ever tell you how my parents met?"

I looked at her curiously. "Um, no."

Alice's eyes twinkled happily. "My parents have been married for twenty-one years and they both insist that it was love at first sight. They met in college when they got paired up for a class project. They spent a lot of time together working on the assignment. My mom says that after just a few days of being around him, she was head over heels in love. Dad says he was a goner the second he first saw her."

Listening to this happily ever after, a big grin crept up on my face. "That is so sweet," I said dreamily.

"Yes, it is, but like you said, love doesn't conquer all. So although I believe in love at first sight, I don't believe that loving somebody is always enough. You could fall in love with a person you are completely incompatible with. I'm not saying that is the case with Edward. I don't know him well enough to say that. I'm just speaking theoretically."

"Yeah, that makes sense. So, Al, when did you turn into such an enlightened love guru?" I teased.

"Ha-ha." She smirked. "Yeah, I seem to be enlightened when it comes to other people's issues, but when it comes to my own, I'm completely in the dark."

I swung my arm over the back of the seat and pulled Alice to me, squeezing her shoulder empathetically. "The always maddening 'can't see the forest through the trees' thing, huh?"

Alice leaned her head against mine. "Yep, something like that."

The small village of Alfriston was a slice of old English heaven with its brown and white Tudor-style quarters, topped with wood shingled rooftops that sheltered the tiny population of only 774, amidst the picturesque 14th century church and graveyard.

Being first out of the van, Alice and I bolted toward the churchyard, expecting to hear Jessica calling after us to wait up. I glanced back to see her walking toward the shops with the unfortunate girls that had sat by her in the van. "Looks like Jessica made some new friends, Al."

"Well, thank fuck for that." She chortled dramatically.

Giggling, I chided, "Shh, don't say that. We're almost on hallowed ground."

As we approached the opening in the gray flint wall that encircled the grounds of St. Andrew's Church, I observed the structure more closely. The stone building displayed a steeple in the middle, surrounded by crimson roofs, a striking contrast with the gray hues of the stones. Leaf-barren trees were sprinkled around the church throughout the ancient cemetery.

We crept reverently among the tombstones, indulging my freakish interest in old graveyards. Whenever I read inscriptions on headstones, my literary mind conjures up images of the past life of the deceased, imagining who they once were. Sometimes the inscription reveals something personal that sheds light on their personality, or it might even say how they died. With this limited information, I flesh out the missing details, much like I do when creating characters while writing a short story.

I read out loud from the headstone in front of me. _"She went about doing good and set at liberty them that are bruised._"

"How old was she?" Alice asked, standing in front of another marker.

"She was only thirty-one," I muttered quietly.

"Look at this one, Bella," Alice beckoned. I joined her in front of a headstone for a child, only eighteen months old, dating back to 1684.

"Yeah, there are always so many of those in old cemeteries. The infant mortality rate back then was astronomical."

"We're so lucky. Medicine has come so far with antibiotics and immunizations."

We continued in this manner, snapping pictures of the oldest tombstones and the ones with the most interesting inscriptions.

If I thought Florence had felt like a trip back in time, this little medieval village was even more of a time warp with its quaint shops and the Clergy House, a thatched-roofed, timber-framed home, dating back to the 14th century.

We walked through the narrow streets, window shopping until we came upon a pub, The George Inn.

"I'm kind of thirsty. Do you mind if we stop here?" Alice asked.

"Are you kidding? You know I love pubs. They're so cozy."

We plopped ourselves down at a dark wood table right next to the matching bar that was dotted with bar stools. We de-layered ourselves, pulling off backpacks, coats, gloves, and scarves. The walnut beamed ceiling above and the well-worn hardwood floor below encompassed the rustically medieval haven.

"I must have this!" I exclaimed, looking at the menu on the table. "I wasn't planning on eating, but holy hell, listen to this–Banana and Baileys Bread and Butter Pudding with Hot Custard."

"Mmmm." Alice issued her approval, closing her eyes dramatically. "Will you share?"

Grinning, I nodded in agreement.

The dessert was as delicious as it had sounded, and we spooned out every last bit, scraping the bowl clean and washing it down with hot tea.

Returning to shopping, or more accurately, to browsing, we meandered into a store with various collectible figurines, candles, postcards, and more. I walked slowly around the tables and shelves, careful to not bump anything with my ever-present backpack. There were so many lovely things that I wished I could buy, especially the delicate glass swan sitting in a curio cabinet. I gazed at its beauty appreciatively, planning to someday have my own curio cabinet full of collectible swans.

Turning around, I stopped in my tracks. I may have even gasped out loud–I'm not quite sure. There was a candle sitting on a shelf, but it was unlike any candle I'd seen before. Standing about twelve inches in height, the white and lavender wax was carved to reveal two nude figures intertwined as one. The bodies of the male and female faced each other, legs interwoven, with the woman's right leg hitched over the man's hip. Their faces were buried in the curvature of their lover's neck, one arm embracing their lover while the other was lifted, hands clasped above their heads, and the wick emerging from that point.

I couldn't take my eyes off of it. I stepped closer, gently removing it from the shelf. Turning it to see all angles, the only nudity was their backsides and the curvature of her breasts from the side. It was erotic, but not gratuitously so. Somehow the artist had captured more than just the sexual act; the intimacy and passion in their state of oneness emanated from the wax figurine, leaving me teary-eyed.

Looking at it, all I could see or think of was Edward. Even though we'd never been one, sexually, I had felt emotions of unspoken connection and intimacy with him that last night when we'd climaxed together. He had ruined me–now I could never settle for anything less. If I did, it would be like eating white rice for the rest of my life after having tasted lobster or homemade chocolate cake.

Without looking at the price tag, without another thought, I carried the candle to the cash register. As I happily paid the twelve euros, I determined that the candle would serve as a visual reminder of what I'd experienced with Edward, encouraging me to never settle for less than that. I would wait until I found another Edward, one who had an open heart, one who was willing to accept the rare and ethereal connection between us.

"What did you buy?" Alice's voice came from behind, scaring the bejesus out of me.

I gasped, quickly turning away from the cash register with the paper bag concealing my wax porn clutched tightly in my hand. "God, Alice, don't do that!"

She giggled, eyeing me curiously as I stood silently, holding my hand to my heart.

"Don't take it out," I instructed as I opened the bag, allowing her to peek inside.

"Ohh!" She gulped. "Oh, fuck."

"What?" I snapped. Alice is no wallflower–nudity and sex never fazed her.

"Just . . . you are in deep smit."

My eyes narrowed in confusion. "Did you say smit or shit?"

"Both, actually. You are _smitten_ with Edward, and he's not around, so you're in deep shit. So, yeah, you're in deep smit, like I said."

I snorted, a big belly laugh escaping my lips. "Okay, so tell me something I don't already know, please. God, Alice, the things you come up with. You are so freakin' funny." I glanced at my watch. "C'mon, chica, it's almost time to meet back at the van."

* * *

"Bella, seriously, you've got to hurry or we're going to miss the train," Alice nagged. She had pushed the bathroom door open, verbally prodding me as I brushed my teeth like I had a bionic arm.

Spitting in the sink, I hollered, "Yelling at me is not going to make me move any faster!"

Saying I am not a morning person isn't just too simplistic–it is a colossal understatement. I think best late at night, and my body and mind refuse to function normally any earlier than six in the morning, no matter how early I get to sleep. So waking up every day at 4:45 was a constant challenge for me, and an especially heinous task, knowing that I'd have to step outside into air that freezes your snot mid-drip.

Apparently, the cosmos or the dream fairies or whatever thought it would be friggin' hilarious if I was late on my very last day at St. Andrew's School. Repeated pounding on my door had jolted me from a deep sleep where Edward and I were reenacting the lovers' position of my erotic candle. I had stumbled in the dark to open the door, finding Alice on the other side, carrying on about how I must have overslept, and that I had twenty measly minutes to get myself ready.

"Oh, shit! It's 5:30?" My heart thudded rapidly as I'd grabbed my towel and ran down the hall to the shower. Alice called after me saying she was going to grab some muffins in the cafeteria and would be back soon.

Washing my hair had not been an option. It takes longer to dry my long, thick hair than it does for paint to dry, and if I went out into the unforgiving winter wind with wet hair, I would be wearing a chocolate hair-sicle.

After brushing my teeth and yelling at Alice for yelling at me, I dashed back to my room. I tossed my toiletry bag on the bed, grabbed my backpack, and locked my door before we galloped down the stairs, taking two at a time.

Speed walking toward the train station, I joked, "Holy hell! I'm awake now. It's going to take a full hour for my heart rate to come down."

Alice chuckled, handing me a muffin. "Here's your breakfast, sleepy head."

As we neared the train station, I looked toward the tracks to see if the train was approaching. Fortunately, it wasn't coming yet. I felt the anxious tension leave my body knowing we weren't going to miss it. As my gaze drifted from the tracks to the steps in front of us, I caught a blur of familiar coppery-bronze.

_No, it can't be. _

My eyes darted back to the mirage, needing to make sense of what I thought I saw. His eyes were on me, staring intensely and smiling at me with that damn crooked grin.

I was shocked–beyond shocked. It seemed unreal. Seeing Edward standing on the train platform was completely unexpected but also comfortingly familiar, reminiscent of the similar platform where I had laid eyes on him for the first time.

"Oh, my god! Emmett!" Alice squealed, bounding down the steps and wrapping herself around him in a friendly hug.

I barely registered what she was doing out of my peripheral vision because I couldn't take my eyes off of Edward. He was even more beautiful than I'd remembered, and I had to keep looking at him to convince myself he was really here. I had thought he was in another country, for christ's sake. I had hoped, but never truly believed that I would ever see him again.

He looked nervous, biting his bottom lip like I always do, licking both repetitively, which just made me want to lick them for him. With his hands stuffed in the pockets of his brown leather jacket, he shuffled his feet, kicking one foot with the other, but his gaze never wavered, remaining locked with mine.

The chilly breeze blew his already disheveled hair, lifting it away from his eyes. The disparity of his soft, scarlet lips framed by rough, dark stubble enticed me, momentarily drawing my gaze away from his.

Standing in front of him, I was vaguely aware of Alice and Emmett a few feet away, chattering animatedly to each other.

"Why, what . . . what are you doing here?" I stuttered.

"Bella . . . I'm _so_ sorry. I'm sorry about everything that happened in Florence. No, not _everything_ . . . just . . . the part when I made you cry."

His fingers threaded through his hair anxiously.

Hearing his deep, soothing voice again was more satisfying than Banana and Baileys Bread and Butter Pudding; its resonance was warm and calming and sinfully delicious. "I know, Edward. I never doubted that . . . even then."

He smiled, appearing relieved. Had he thought I was angry with him? Or that I wouldn't accept his apology even though there really was nothing to apologize for?

"You came all this way just to say you're sorry?" I asked.

"No, Bella, I have so much more I need to tell you. I was–" He was interrupted by the roar of a train, fast approaching the station. He turned his head toward the train and then looked back at me.

My heart sank. I had to leave him just minutes after finding him. I had never wanted to play hooky and call in sick so badly, but it was my very last day. I needed to say goodbye to my students. "That's my train. I have to go," I said, looking into his eyes apologetically.

"What time will you get back here tonight? I'll be here waiting for you–if you want me to be, that is."

"I want you . . . to be," I said assuredly, with a bit of a blush, I'm sure. "Um, I'll arrive about 6:40 tonight."

As Alice and Emmett stepped closer to us, I quickly greeted Emmett, and Alice punched Edward's arm playfully.

As the train began to slow before coming to a stop, Alice asked, "So how did you two sleuths find us anyway?"

Emmett chuckled as he so often does. "Contrary to popular belief, some men _do_ actually listen when women talk." We all laughed. "We knew you were living here at Falmer College."

Edward interjected, "And you told us you had two weeks of teaching left, so we calculated that today would be your last day."

"And the only way out of here is on the train, so we staked out the station figuring you'd have to show up here eventually," Emmett added.

Alice took a few steps toward the train door, waiting for it to open. "But you didn't know what time we leave. How long have you been waiting?"

The train doors opened and we stepped inside, turning around to face the guys.

Edward, scrunching his eyebrows, answered a bit sheepishly. "An hour or so I think?"

"You've been here since five o'clock this morning?" I croaked. I was astonished that they would stand in freezing temperatures before the asscrack of dawn, not even knowing how long they would have to wait.

Edward smiled gently, his eyes twinkling and nodded his head. "And I'll be here tonight, too."

The train doors closed, and I held his gaze as the train pulled away until he was gone.

Sitting down, I turned to Alice. "What did Emmett say to you? What did he say about Edward, about why they're here?"

"He didn't really tell me anything. He just said that Edward wanted to find you because he had some things to clear up."

"Things to clear up?" I rolled my eyes. "What the hell does that mean?"

"I have no idea. What did Edward say to you?"

"He said he was sorry for making me cry that last night in Florence, and that he had a lot more that he wanted to say, but there wasn't time. He said he'd be at the station when we get back tonight."

"Oh, my god, Bella. Maybe he changed his mind about you two!"

"I just don't know. I can't let myself think that. Maybe he just wants to apologize some more, or maybe he wants to see if we can just be friends and travel with us. Holy hell, I hope not because I cannot be _just_ friends with Edward. I cannot and will not travel with him like we did before . . . as friends. That would be the sweetest kind of torture I can imagine. It would kill me."

"Well, I guess you'll find out tonight." Alice smiled.

"Yeah, I have to wait until tonight," I mumbled in irritation. "That means this is going to be the longest flippin' day of my life!"

* * *

**A/N: Okay, so Edward is back as so many of you wanted. I know you only got a sneak peek, but at least he's back, right? Next chapter will be all Edward! **

**I love my betas, Pickwicksociety, JenKB, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180 even more than fish and chips in Brighton.**

**To see pictures that accompany each chapter, including this one, visit one of the following:**

**Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. **

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**/groups/281151482005898/**

**Then request to be added to the group.**


	12. Pomp & Fucking Circumstance

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

* * *

**Chapter 12 – Pomp and Fucking Circumstance**

I was right. It really was the longest day in my twenty-five years of life. Certainly, I had experienced days that never seemed to end, lengthened by all-encompassing grief, but never had I suffered in such anticipatory agony, consumed with wonder, worry, and hope. I didn't think it was melodramatic of me to feel that I was waiting for my fate to be decided; whatever Edward had to say to me would quite possibly affect the course of the rest of my life.

My usual laidback, go-with-the flow personality disintegrated the moment I left Edward at the station twelve hours and forty-two minutes ago. I'd spent the majority of my last day at St. Andrew's School dissecting every word Edward had said.

_Is he here just to apologize for hurting me? No, I asked him that straight out, and he said he had more to say. Is he going to ask if we can keep in touch and just be friends? No, he knows I want more than that. Did he change his mind about us? Does he want a relationship with me now? _

That was the only thing that made sense, but I couldn't allow myself to believe it was possible. If I had an expectation, I could be crushed. Who was I kidding? His showing up in Falmer had created an expectation already. I'd be devastated all over again if he was still not open to being with me.

Resting my forehead against the chilled train window, I felt Alice nudge my arm.

"Bells, try to relax. I feel good about this. He wouldn't have come all this way just to apologize."

I swear to all that is holy, that girl is clairvoyant, somehow always knowing exactly what I'm thinking about.

I forced a tense smile. "I hope you're right. Otherwise, his being here is just cruel. I don't want to say goodbye to him again."

"And that's why I'm okay with it if you want them to travel with us before we go back home."

I narrowed my eyes in puzzlement. "But Alice, you said it was starting to be too tempting, being around Emmett. I don't want to force you into something you're not comfortable with."

"Oh, I was being dramatic." She chuckled, shaking her head and waving her hand dismissively. "I'll be fine, and maybe spending more time with Emmett will help me make a decision about Jasper. It's okay, really."

"Thank you, Alice," I said sincerely.

"You're welcome," she said cheerfully. "You'll probably want some privacy, so maybe you could take Edward to the dorm common room. I think I'll introduce Emmett to the culinary goodness of the cafeteria."

"Okay, that sounds good." I sensed the slowing of the train and looked out the window to see Falmer station coming into view.

"Oh god, Alice," I squeaked. "I'm so freaking nervous. I've been anxious all day about Edward, and then I was emotional and crying, having to say goodbye to my students. I'm a mess."

She rubbed my arm comfortingly. "I have a feeling you're going to be all better very soon."

As the train came into the station, I pressed my face to the window, looking for my Adonis. There was a small part of me that wondered if he would really be here. Edward, actively seeking me out and showing up so unexpectedly, seemed too good to be true, almost dreamlike. But there he was once again, standing on the platform, chatting with Emmett. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding as the corners of my mouth turned upward of their own accord.

When we stepped off the train and walked toward the guys, I was greeted with the biggest smile I'd ever seen on Edward's face. It wasn't the half-smile that makes me want to do naughty things to him but a full-on, toothy grin that made me want to just hug him to death. His eyes were wide and glimmering, the diffused light from the recently set sun highlighting his angled jaw and chiseled cheekbones.

_My god, he is exquisite. _

Everyone exchanged courteous "hellos" and "how are yous" as we began the trek up to campus. I asked them how they'd spent their day in the bustling metropolis of Falmer. Of course, I was only joking, knowing they'd probably ventured elsewhere.

The transportation system in the UK is fantastic. It's simple and quick to hop a train to just about anywhere. We chuckled when they told us they'd spent the day in Brighton, considering we had just been there last weekend. We chatted with them about the Royal Pavilion, the boardwalk, and the beauty and quaintness of the city.

Once on campus, Alice explained the plan to the guys, telling Edward and I to meet them in the cafeteria when we were finished talking. As we walked to my dorm building, Edward asked me about my last day of teaching.

Leaving out my consuming anxiety about his unexpected appearance, I shared with him how difficult it had been to leave my students. He made me blush when he said that he wished he'd had an English teacher as caring and as hot as me when he was a teenager.

Edward held open the door as we entered the dorm and then we climbed the interior steps to the second floor. I was relieved to find the common room unoccupied, probably because most students were eating dinner in the cafeteria.

The room looked like a throwback to the seventies, with an ugly, pea-green sofa, a bright orange recliner, and a small television with only two channels. I motioned for Edward to sit on the couch with me as I pulled off my beret and scarf.

He sat close, angling his body to face me. He glanced up at me, and then looked down at his hands, only to quickly lift one to his hair, tousling his locks nervously. I looked at him, waiting for him to say something.

Finally, he exhaled loudly. "Damn, I don't know where to start. I've thought about this over and over, but now–" He trailed off, sighing again.

"Edward, look at me," I said gently. His eyes darted from his hands to my face, holding my gaze.

"It's okay. I want to hear what you have to say. You said you didn't come here just to apologize. Tell me why you _are_ here."

"Bella, I–" He paused again, clearly nervous. "I'm a selfish bastard for even coming here, but I don't have the strength to stay away from you anymore. I mean, that is, if you even want me around. I know it was . . . difficult for you in Florence. You have every right to tell me to fuck off."

_He doesn't have the strength to stay away from me_? My Inner Me did a few cartwheels followed by a fist pump, but I hushed her, explaining that she was getting a bit ahead of herself. It sounded like he wanted more than friendship, but I didn't want to misinterpret. I had to be certain.

"I'm not sure what you're saying, Edward. What exactly is it that you want?"

"I want _you_, Bella. I want to be around you. I want to travel with you this last week you're here, and I want to be a part of your life . . . after you go back to Phoenix."

_He wants to be part of my life._ Mostly I was elated, but I needed to understand the drastic change from the Edward who sent me away in Florence.

"I don't understand. You were so . . . _adamant_. What you're saying sounds like a relationship, and you said you didn't want a relationship."

"No, I never said I didn't want a relationship. I just said that I couldn't be in one . . . because that would make me a selfish fucker, dragging somebody into all the shit that comes along with me, and that's still true. But–" He hesitated, looking away.

"But?" I coaxed. "What changed?"

Edward's wandering gaze returned to mine, and he spoke with conviction. "What changed was living the last two weeks without you, Bella. I ignorantly thought I could just go on with my life as I probably should, but it didn't turn out to be that simple."

Resting his elbow on his knee, he dropped his head to his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I didn't know . . . um, that I was going to miss you so . . . so profoundly," he nearly whispered.

"I did," I said, matter-of-factly, blurting the first thing that entered my mind.

Edward's eyes darted to mine, reflecting surprise mixed with concern.

"I mean, I _knew_ how much I would miss you," I elaborated. "I missed you before I even left your room . . . when you told me we couldn't be together."

"Bella," he groaned, reaching for my hand. Resting in the warm cocoon of his cupped hands, he caressed mine gently. "I did, too. It killed me to send you away, but I did because I thought I was protecting you. It's just . . . I naively thought it would get easier after a few days, but it only got worse."

I couldn't contain the utter joy that swelled within me, waves of emotion, manifesting in a teasing smile. "Is it terrible of me to say that I'm glad that it got worse for you?"

Edward laughed heartily. "So you'll give me another chance?" He grinned, brushing his thumb over the back of my hand.

"Um, that would be a . . . _yes_!" I smiled. "C'mon, Edward, was there really ever any doubt?"

Edward's eyes widened, his eyebrows lifting in astonishment. "Are you kidding? _Yes_, there was doubt. I was in knots all the way from Greece to England, and then again all day today waiting to see you. I was an ass for trying to ignore this thing between us, and I hurt you. I seriously doubted whether you would even want to see me again."

"Edward, since we said goodbye in Florence, I've done nothing but hope that someday you might change your mind. I didn't really believe that you would, but I hoped and fantasized that you'd find me somehow. So thinking I wouldn't want to see you again couldn't be further from the truth."

We beamed big, goofy grins at each other, both high on the revelation that we each had missed the other intensely.

"So . . . um, we probably should talk about how we're going to make this work. I mean, we've definitely got some obstacles in our way that we need to discuss." Edward frowned, still stroking my hand.

"Mmm, yeah, _that_," I groaned. "I have a feeling that's all going to be somewhat tricky to figure out. Right now I just want to concentrate on you–on us. Can we wait and talk about it toward the end of the week before we leave England?"

Edward smiled. "Sure, whatever you want. You said - 'toward the end of the week.' Does that mean Emmett and I can tag along with you and Alice again?"

"Are you asking me to be your tour guide again, Mr. Cullen? Have you been lost traveling without me?" I giggled teasingly.

Edward's smile faded, his jade eyes narrowing. "Yes, I _was_ lost without you," he confessed, his tone deep and solemn.

My laugh halted, his silky voice and worshipful gaze lulling me into a hypnotic stare as a familiar current surged between us. Still cradling my hand in both of his, he lifted one of his to my cheek, his long fingers threading through my hair and pressing gently on the back of my neck. Stroking my cheek with his thumb, he closed the space between us, molding his lips to mine.

Edward's kiss was firm but soft. "But now I'm found," he mumbled against my mouth.

* * *

"Pomp and fucking circumstance! The British sure know how to do it, don't they?" Alice bellowed, rapidly snapping pictures of the changing of the guards.

After a short train ride from Falmer to London on Saturday morning, we'd arrived at Buckingham Palace, our first stop in London.

Emmett laughed at Alice's creative cursing. He seemed to think she's the funniest person on the planet; the boy was clearly in full crush mode.

"They really do this shit every day? This has to cost some royal bucks." Emmett pulled his blue beanie cap further down over his ears, grinning playfully. "I have to say, though, the black fuzzy hats on the royal guards are badass. I want one."

Edward chuckled. "Yeah, Emmett? And where exactly would you wear that monstrosity?"

"I'd wear it to the High Dive. It would be an excellent conversation starter."

"And what the hell is the High Dive?" Alice asked.

"It's a bar in Seattle where Emmett and I like to hang out," Edward explained. "You girls would love it. They have live music and great barbeque."

"You are full of shit, Emmett," I challenged, rolling my eyes at him. "You would _not_ wear that hideous hat to a bar."

"I've done crazier shit than that. Ask Edward," Emmett insisted. "Bella, if you can somehow acquire said hat, I will prove you wrong."

"Even if I could find one to buy, it would probably cost a fortune, so you're probably off the hook."

Edward grinned devilishly. "Bella, if you can find one, I will happily pay a hefty sum just to have the pleasure of seeing Emmett make an ass of himself at the High Dive."

We all laughed together easily, just as we had before our two week separation.

Turning our focus back to the changing of the guards, I was riveted to the spectacle unfolding before us. I'd never seen anything like it, what with being American and all. We just don't have cool shit like that. The robotic guards marched with precision in their black slacks, red jackets and those tall, furry, black hats.

They reminded me of the nutcracker soldier in _The Nutcracker_ ballet I'd seen when I was a girl. I was ten years old and visiting my dad during the Christmas holiday. He had surprised me and Seth with tickets to the ballet in Seattle, something my mom would never have even thought to do for us. Even if she had, she would have most likely been stricken with some kind of psychosomatic illness at the last minute and cancelled our plans–the story of my life, but I digress. Seth hadn't been quite as excited as me to see a "girly ballet" but ended up liking it, thanks to the fight scene between the army of mice and toy soldiers. I remember being utterly mesmerized by the beautiful Clara–she looked like a dancing princess. I can still feel the emotion of my childlike amazement when she danced on her toes. I'd never known people could do such a thing.

Edward nudged me gently, directing my attention toward the end of the street. Several magnificent black horses, led by a solitary white horse, pranced down the road with soldiers atop.

I smiled at Edward through my teeth that had begun to chatter in an attempt to fight the chill. We'd been standing outside the palace with the rest of the growing crowd for nearly an hour, and the winter wind was getting the best of me. Edward smiled back and stepped behind me, wrapping himself around my body. His arms covered mine, and he placed his hands over the top of mine. His full body pressed against my back, and his nose nuzzled my neck before he brushed his lips against my ear. "You're freezing. May I share my body heat with you?"

I smiled, tilting my head back to see him. "You're hired. You are now officially my on-the-go Snuggie blanket."

Edward scrunched his eyebrows. "Snuggie?"

I glanced back at the horses as they pranced by, the clip-clop of their hooves echoing through the air. Turning back to Edward's gaze, I explained, "Yeah, those ridiculous full body blankets that have arms in them? Don't tell me you've never succumbed to torturous late night infomercials?" I said with a straight face.

"Unfortunately, I think I've seen every late night infomercial ever made. I hate to say that I know exactly what you're talking about. I just didn't know it was called a Snuggie, but I happily accept the job of being yours."

I looked up at Edward again, smiling like a goofball. I just couldn't help it; being with him like this was nearly euphoric. He leaned further down, placing one firm but innocent kiss on my lips, and I smiled again, ear to ear.

Though I was blissful, in the back of my mind, I was cognizant of our need to have some heavy conversations about my divorce, about his emotional issues from the war, and how to handle our blossoming long-distance romance. Hell, I didn't even know if he recognized that he was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Had he ever been diagnosed by a professional, or was this just Emmett's observation? I couldn't bring myself to broach such a difficult subject just yet. I really didn't know him well enough, and I just couldn't steal the light from his eyes that had been there since last night after our talk by bringing up a painful subject.

Admittedly, I had an ulterior motive for postponing the serious, real-life crap conversation. I dreaded telling Edward that I'd been married–and divorced. It just sounded so . . . ugh . . . so _bad_. It was like announcing that I'm a failure, that something was so horribly wrong with me that the man who had wanted to spend his life with me changed his mind.

Deep down, I knew I was a good person, a really damn good person. I genuinely cared for people. I was loyal. I was honest. I'd learned from my shortcomings and failures  
in my marriage. But Edward didn't know those things about me because he didn't really know me yet. He could easily make generalizations and judgments when he learned I was divorced. Perhaps I was trying to buy some time–I needed time for him to get to know who I am as a person, so that he'd be able see past the label of divorcée.

After we got our fill of pomp and circumstance at its best, we stopped a couple of bobbies who were working crowd control. They happily obliged, posing for a picture with me and Alice to add to our growing collection of policemen throughout Europe.

We caught a red double-decker bus over to Trafalgar Square. Those buses are so very London that we felt the need to indulge in the full experience by climbing the stairs, riding on the top deck to take pictures.

The famous Trafalgar Square, named after the Battle of Trafalgar–a British naval victory of the Napoleonic Wars–was surrounded by roadways on three sides and stairs leading to the National Gallery on the other. The plaza was decorated with two large fountains, various pieces of artwork, and Nelson's Column as the centerpiece, in honor of Admiral Horatio Nelson who died in the battle in 1805.

Alice and I explained to the guys that we wanted to see Nelson's Column because we'd learned about Admiral Nelson when we'd visited Chatham Dockyard in Portsmouth and toured the actual flagship of the Battle of Trafalgar.

There were a shit ton of pigeons flying and walking around the square like they owned the damn place. Alice and I hammed it up in front of Nelson's Column, climbing up next to one of the lion statues around the monument base as the guys took pictures. As we hopped down, the pigeons, who had been minding their own business, began flying around us. And I don't mean a couple of pigeons were flying around our heads–I mean more like a _hundred_ pigeons were flying around our heads.

"Holy fucking shit! Get these things away from me," Alice screeched in disgust, yet laughing as she said it.

Emmett howled, "Shit is right! Any second now they're gonna let loose their shit right on you, Alice."

I felt one land on my head and then another on my shoulder. I flapped my arms, screaming and laughing. I'm not usually scared of birds but pigeons? They are nasty, dirty scavengers, and I didn't want to get shit on either. It seemed the more Alice and I screeched and waved them off, the more they surrounded us. The guys laughed like hyenas as they snapped pictures of the attack of the pigeons.

"Just start walking away. They probably won't follow you," Edward advised, gasping for breath as he laughed hysterically.

Sure enough, as we walked away, the birds remained mostly around the monument, leaving us alone.

We found our way to the nearest subway station, taking the tube to St. John's Wood station. From there, it was a brief walk to the famed Abbey Road. This stop hadn't been on my original itinerary, but knowing that Edward and Emmett might just be the biggest Beatles fans ever, it was a necessary addition.

"Neither of you have seen the famous album cover of the Beatles crossing the street–crossing Abbey Road?" Emmett asked.

Alice and I looked at each other and then back at Emmett, shaking our heads in mock shame.

"Really?" Emmett chortled in disbelief.

We laughed at his incredulity. "Really, _really_, Emmett!" I teased.

"The studio on Abbey Road is where the Beatles recorded almost all of their albums in the sixties," Edward explained. The man was a walking Beatles encyclopedia.

"And they named their 1969 album, _Abbey Road_, after the street where the studio is located," Emmett added.

"Which happens to be my favorite Beatles album," Edward offered.

I looked up at him. "Oh, yeah, what's your favorite Beatles song ever?"

"That's impossible. Can't choose one." He smiled.

"Okay, then name a few favorites," I insisted.

"Okay, well, let's see. Um, there's _Come Together, _definitely one of my favorites. Also,_ Something_ and _Across the Universe. _And one of McCartney's solo songs called _Maybe I'm Amazed." _

"I assume these are all on your iPod?"

Edward chuckled. "Absolutely."

"Play them for me sometime?"

Edward wrapped his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into the crook of his neck as we walked. "I'd love to."

Emmett charmed a passerby with a flash of his dimples, asking her to take a picture of the four of us crossing Abbey Road, reenacting the famous album cover. Our stop there was brief as we really just wanted a picture.

We popped into the Duke of York pub near the subway station for lunch. While eating and downing a couple of ales, we discussed the itinerary for the afternoon. Since he's one of my favorite British authors, I really wanted to go to the Charles Dickens Museum. It's the actual home where he lived during the time he wrote _Oliver Twist_ and _Nicholas Nickleby_, but Alice and Emmett had no interest in that. Though Alice loves classic literature, Dickens is not one of her favorite authors.

"Bella, I agree that Dickens has amazing plots and characters, but his prose is like wading through quicksand–it is so fucking heavy and verbose." She concluded by stuffing some chips in her mouth.

"Yes, Alice, I do realize Dickens is much too cerebral and deep for some people's brains to process." Alice and I have had the Dickens debate before, and I loved giving her crap about it.

"Oh, man! And Bella slam dunks Alice's ass!" Emmett roared.

"I wouldn't call using ten words when three would suffice as cerebral, but whatever," Alice retorted.

Emmett raised his beer mug toward Edward. "To motherfucking girl fights."

Edward laughed, tapping his mug against Emmett's. "Keep going, girls! Intellectual sparring is almost as hot as mud wrestling. Well, okay, maybe not, but still–keep going."

We laughed, and then fulfilled Emmett's wish with a few more rounds of the Dickens debate.

It was ultimately decided that Edward and I would go to the Dickens house without them, and we would all meet back up at the hotel in time for dinner. Splitting up was all Alice's idea. I wasn't quite sure if she was attempting to give me some time alone with Edward or give herself time alone with Emmett. Perhaps both motives were at play. Whichever the case, I was all over the opportunity to have Edward for myself for the afternoon. We said our goodbyes at the subway station before heading in different directions. I had no idea where Alice and Emmett were off to, but I knew we'd hear all about it over dinner.

As we entered the train, Edward lifted my backpack from my back for me, settling it on the floor between his legs as he sat down. Sitting in the seat next to him, I loosened my scarf and unbuttoned my coat. We reached for each other's hand almost simultaneously, finding the need to be in some sort of contact with him ever-present. The newfound freedom to act without restraint was exhilarating.

He turned toward me, leaning over and placing his elbows on his knees. He lifted my hand to his mouth, kissing it gently before nuzzling his cheek against it. It was probably the third or fourth time he'd kissed my hand today, something I had no idea I could enjoy so much. It was such a simple, non-sexual form of affection, but even so, his lips against my hand rendered me nearly speechless and dizzy with delight. As his lips pressed against my skin, his eyes conveyed esteem and tenderness.

"Are you enjoying yourself today, Bella?" he asked, still holding my hand against the scruff of his jaw.

I smiled. "Yes, very much. More than I would be if you weren't here."

Edward's eyes sparkled, and he kissed my hand once more before lowering it to his lap, still nestled between his hands. "Tell me more about your family. You've told me a bit about your mom, but what is your dad like? And your brother?"

I really didn't want to talk about my brother–that topic was such a downer. But if I expected Edward to answer my questions, I would have to answer his. "Um, well, I'll answer the tough one first. Remember how I told you that I became addicted to books as a way to deal with my mom's absurdities?"

Edward nodded.

"Well, Seth dealt with it by becoming addicted to drugs, not to say it is entirely my mom's fault. Anyway, it's been five years now, and he still hasn't been able to stay clean longer than a few months."

Edward whispered, "God, I'm so sorry, Bella."

"Yeah, I know. He does well for a while and then he drops off the radar. I got an email from my mom just a couple weeks ago saying that he'd disappeared again."

I took a deep breath. "But on a brighter note, my dad . . . well, he's just Charlie. He's the best. I sometimes wonder how my life would be different if he would've had full custody of us instead of my mom."

"Why is he the best?" Edward asked.

"Well, he's funnier than hell for one thing." I giggled. "He's a gifted storyteller, and he's got some doozies, let me tell you. Being a police officer for twenty plus years has provided him with an unending supply of 'dumbest criminals' tales. He's just great company." I brushed a strand of hair from my eyes, tucking it behind my ear.

"You dad is a police officer?" Edward looked intrigued.

"Um, yeah. Well, he was promoted to Chief of Police about . . . mmm, maybe eight years ago."

"So your dad is a humorous cop. That's a good combination." He grinned, chuckling. "What else?"

"He wasn't big on affection or saying I love you, but I still always felt loved. Whenever he wasn't working, he spent all his time with me and Seth. We'd go fishing with him just for the day, and sometimes he'd take us camping at Bear Creek. He taught us how to handle guns and shoot them safely. Once in a while, he would take us to the city, like the time he took us to see _The Nutcracker_ ballet. He's interested in my opinions and feelings, always asking me questions about my life. So, yeah, he's the best dad."

"You know how to shoot a gun?" Edward mumbled, the twinkle in his eyes gone.

I nodded. "Being a cop, he had guns in the house, of course. He wanted us to be educated and informed, so we wouldn't just pick up his gun out of curiosity."

"Huh. Yeah, I guess that makes sense." Edward's gaze landed on the floor, and his expression was blank, seemingly a million miles away.

We sat silently for a moment before I squeezed his hand. "Your turn, Edward."

He startled. "What? I'm sorry, Bella. What did you say?"

Smiling reassuringly, I repeated, "I said it's your turn. Tell me about your parents and your sister? Please."

"Oh, okay, sure. My mom and dad are pretty cool, most of the time. Carlisle runs the family company. He took over as C.E.O. and Chairman of the Board of Directors when my grandfather passed away many years ago. He wasn't around much when I was growing up–he still isn't. I guess you could say he's a workaholic, but when he is around, he really tries.

Esme, my mom, is always there when I need her. She runs our company's charitable foundation, but when she was younger she worked as an interior designer. She still does that a little on the side just because she enjoys it."

"How did they react when you joined the Army?"

"They were both . . . extremely distressed. My mom was upset, but she supported my decision. My dad was upset and . . . didn't support me."

"Oh, I'm sorry. What about your sister? Are you two close?"

"Ah, Rosalie." His smile returned. "She is definitely a mix of both of our parents. She can be hard-nosed like my dad and then turn right around and be nurturing like my mom. I swear to god she has a split personality." Edward chuckled. "But, yeah, we're close I guess. It's kind of a love/hate type of thing." He smiled, shaking his head. "She's the smartest girl I know. She works in the family business as a mechanical engineer."

"Really? That's a very male-dominated field. I'm impressed."

Before he could respond, the train pulled into Russell Square station. Coming out of the subway into the chilled air, Edward spotted a taxi, hailing it before I could object. Within a few minutes, the taxi dropped us off in front of the Charles Dickens Museum. The brick home stood three stories high, accented with white-trimmed windows and a bright green door.

As we walked in, to our left was the living room or parlor as Dickens would have called it, with some of the original furniture, including his red leather chair. As we wandered throughout the rooms, Edward frequently placed his hand on the small of my back, which made me melt just a little.

We were in a small room, probably once a bedroom, looking at miscellaneous items that had belonged to Dickens. Upon seeing the original manuscript of _Oliver Twist_, I realized I truly was a literary geek when I had to control the urge to jump up and down.

"So I finished reading _A Tale of Two Cities_," Edward announced, breaking through the silence as we were the only tourists in the room.

"Oh, yeah? I was wondering about that. So did you come here with me because you now see the genius of Dickens or because you just wanted to be with me?" I smiled coyly.

"Both," Edward admitted, scratching his jaw, "but mostly to be with you."

I smiled and maybe even blushed. Edward reached for my hand at my side, drawing me toward him. "Come here," he muttered quietly.

Pulling me against him, he wrapped his arms around my waist. I welcomed his embrace, snaking my hands under his leather jacket and onto his back. I melted into the warmth of his body, breathing in his aroma–a combination of the clean freshness of soap and his own pheromones. Edward didn't need cologne; his natural scent intoxicated me, calling me like the mythological Sirens who lured nearby sailors with their enchanting music.

"Yeah, _mostly_ to be with you," he whispered, his forehead now pressed against mine. "I think I'd follow you just about anywhere."

His silken lips pressed to mine, warm and soft, chaste but lingering. I opened my mouth slightly, gently taking in his lower lip. The juxtaposition of his soft mouth and the rough stubble just below it was panty-melting.

As the kiss was broken, he stepped away but took my hand in his as he led me out of the room. We finished looking around, and then I purchased postcards and a small booklet about the museum. I figured it might come in handy when teaching students about Dickens and his novels.

I talked Edward into walking to the subway station rather than taking a cab again. It felt a little warmer than it had earlier, and I wanted to explore as much of London as possible. As we started down the street, he released my hand, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and pulling me close. I responded eagerly, clasping my arm snuggly around his waist.

"So then you liked _A Tale of Two Cities_?" I asked, returning to the topic that had been disrupted by our kiss.

"Yes, very much. I liked the historical aspect of it, how Dickens depicted the years before and during the French Revolution, and all the tragedy and injustices that occurred."

"Yeah, I thought my History Dude might like that aspect."

"_Your_ History Dude, huh? I like the sound of that." Edward squeezed my shoulder. "I admit–Dickens is a masterful storyteller. The characters were interesting and had depth. The story had danger and adventure, sacrifice and love."

"I wrote an expository essay on it for a class, analyzing the theme of sacrifice found throughout the narrative."

"Really?" Edward's eyes widened. "I would love to read it."

"Yeah?" My head whipped up, looking at him unconvinced. He smiled, nodding. "Well, in a nutshell, I examined the various examples of sacrifice. Dr. Manette sacrificed his freedom for his integrity. Darnay sacrificed his wealth and heritage to live a life free of guilt for his family's disdainful behavior. The French people as a whole were willing to sacrifice their lives to get out from under the tyrannical monarchy." I looked up at Edward to make sure I wasn't boring him to tears.

"Go on," he urged. I smiled, wondering how it was possible that this beautiful, sweet man was willing to listen to my literary rambling. It sort of seemed too good to be true.

"Of course, the ultimate sacrifice was Carton's decision to give up his life in order to save the lives of Lucie, Charles, and their family. _'It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.'"_

"Do you memorize something from everything you read?"

"No, I only memorize the things that speak to me. I told you before–I like to keep the really good stuff with me all the time."

Before he could say anything, I blurted out what I'd been thinking about since we began talking about _The Tale of Two Cities_. "Edward, speaking of sacrifice . . . um, it seems to me that you are no stranger to that concept," I spoke hesitantly. "I mean, well, I read the magazine article Emmett wrote about you."

I cautiously glanced up to gauge his reaction. He stared silently at the ground as we continued walking. "Edward?" I gently prodded.

"What?" His tone was clipped.

"Um, well, we haven't talked about your past–I mean, your time in the Army. You didn't even tell me you had served in the military."

Edward's jaw flexed, but his arm was still around me so I continued. "All I know is what Emmett told me and what I read in the magazine article."

"That would be because I don't like to talk about it, Bella." His tone wasn't rude, just matter-of-fact.

I decided to back off, not wanting to ruin our day of sightseeing. This would keep for another time.

Abruptly, I stopped walking and placed my hands on Edward's hips, pulling him to me. I reached up and cradled his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me.

"I know you don't," I said gently. Still holding his gorgeous face, I pulled him down to meet my lips, kissing him tenderly. I ran my fingers across his cheeks, down to his neck, and then to his arms until I found his hands. Squeezing them in mine, I smiled. "So are you ready to see yet _another_ cathedral?"

"St. Paul's?" He chuckled. He was back.

"Yep, St. Paul's Cathedral. Our friend, Admiral Nelson, is buried there. And Florence Nightingale, too. How's that for random?"

"St. Paul's it is then. Like I said, I'd follow you anywhere, Bella."

With our hands still threaded together, he lifted one to his lips, kissing the back of my hand. "Shall we, Miss Swan?" he asked, offering his arm to me.

"We shall, Mr. Cullen." My arm hooked through his as we continued our journey.

* * *

**A/N: ** **I love my betas - Pickwicksociety, JenKB, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180 - more than seeing Dickens' original manuscripts (which was really freakin' exciting). **

**To see pictures that accompany each chapter, including this one, visit one of the following:**

**Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. **

**For photos and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL- **

**/groups/281151482005898/**

**Then request to be added to the group. **


	13. Our Greatest Fear

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**How did I get so lucky to have such talented and dedicated betas? Pickwicksociety, JenKB, Guitargirl and Mel/mcc101180 you are appreciated more than words can say.**

* * *

**Chapter 13 – Our Greatest Fear**

"Say 'sweaty sex,'" Alice loudly instructed, pointing the camera at me and Edward as we posed by the Pulteney Bridge. I felt Edward's body shaking with laughter as he stood behind me, his arms encircling my waist. I giggled as we obeyed Alice, repeating in unison: "Sweaty sex!"

"I got it!" Glancing down at her camera, she hollered, "Wait, one more because your mouths were hanging open in that one."

"Well, then don't make us laugh this time," Edward countered.

"I can't help it if I'm funny." She shrugged, smirking. "Okay, now just smile normally, please."

Alice snapped another picture after which Emmett snagged the camera, explaining that he would take one of Alice and me together. Then it was Emmett and Edward's turn.

I glanced around, looking for a tourist to hit up to take a picture of the four of us, but we were the only ones in the area on this wintry Sunday morning.

Dating back to the 1700s, the Pulteney Bridge was our first stop since arriving in Bath from London. Edward and I had finished our afternoon in London at St. Paul's Cathedral and then Picadilly Circus before we'd returned to the hotel to freshen up for dinner.

Over lagers, Emmett and Alice had told us about their afternoon at Shakespeare's Globe Theatre. I would have loved to see the theatre; however, there just hadn't been enough time to do everything, and forced to pick between Shakespeare and Dickens, I'd happily chosen Dickens.

After a couple of beers and lots of food, we'd all turned in early since we had to catch an early morning train.

We'd arrived in Bath at about nine in the morning, heading straight to the Harrington Hotel to drop off our luggage. From there, it had been a short stroll over to the Pulteney Bridge.

After taking pictures, we browsed through a few of the shops that lined the bridge itself, buying the requisite postcards, and I spent a few minutes coveting a swan figurine. We headed back to the town center toward one of the most popular tourist attractions in the city, the Roman Baths.

We paid the entrance fee and began the tour with an informational pamphlet in hand. Our first view of the ancient bath was from the terrace, a balcony of sorts that overlooked a rectangular pool, filled with naturally heated water that had bubbled up from the earth for thousands of years.

"So who are these dudes, Bella?" Emmett asked, motioning to multiple statues lining the edge of the terrace.

I quickly scanned the pamphlet. "Um, it says the statues are of Roman Emperors and military leaders. When the Romans occupied Britain, they discovered the natural spring. Of course, they didn't understand the natural phenomenon and thought it was the work of the gods. It says they built a temple next to the spring and dedicated it to the goddess Sulis Minerva, a deity with healing powers."

Alice asked curiously, "So did they bathe in it for healing purposes?"

I did some speed reading through the pamphlet before answering. "Yes, let me read what is says: 'The mineral rich water from the Sacred Spring supplied a magnificent bath-house which attracted visitors from across the Roman Empire.'"

Emmett snorted. "Yeah, I bet more than just bathing was going on." His eyebrows danced suggestively. "I've heard about those Romans and their orgies."

Alice scrunched her face in disgust. "Thanks, Emmett. Now I'm going to have visions of sex acts everywhere I look on the tour."

"And that's a bad thing?" Emmett winked at her. She slugged him in the arm, but her face was lit with a smile.

Edward and I laughed, rolling our eyes at each other as we listened to their flirtatious banter.

From the terrace, we went below street level to get a closer look at the Sacred Spring. From there, we entered a museum area which housed Roman artifacts discovered during the excavation of the site in the late 1800s. There were thousands of Roman coins, presumably thrown in the spring as offerings to the goddess. One of the most impressive artifacts was a gilt bronze head of Sulis Minerva, discovered nearby in 1727.

Edward was fascinated with this portion of the tour because he was quite knowledgeable about the Roman Empire. We eventually ended up in a gift shop at the end of the tour where we purchased more postcards that were specific to the Roman Baths. Exiting the building, we headed next door to the Bath Abbey.

I was now up to my eyeballs in cathedrals, but I just had to take a peek at the 12th century abbey. We stepped inside for maybe two minutes, quickly scanning the interior. The most impressive aspect of the architecture was the ceiling, a vaulted canopy with intricately carved fanlike designs.

Stepping back outside, Edward slipped his hand into mine as we followed Emmett and Alice toward the Grand Pump Room just across the courtyard. Its honey-colored sandstone façade displayed Corinthian columns and recessed arched windows.

Alice squealed, "I cannot believe I'm going into a building where Jane Austen herself socialized!"

"I know, right?" I agreed excitedly. I saw Edward and Emmett shoot each other a look that said–_what the hell_–but I ignored them. They just couldn't understand our excitement without having read Austen's novels, specifically _Northanger Abbey_ and _Persuasion_ where the characters spent time at the Pump Room.

As we walked into that very room, I was in awe at the elegant simplicity of the rectangular cream-colored room with arched alcoves at each end, which were bordered by dual Corinthian columns. The walls were lined with arched windows and framing columns that spanned heights nearly floor-to-ceiling. The only color was splashes of bright crimson swags adorning each window. At the room's center, crisp white tablecloths covered multiple square tables with dark cherry wood chairs.

As it was nearly noon, we decided this was as good a place as any to dine for lunch. I was in no rush to leave as I wanted more time to soak up the atmosphere and indulge in visions of Jane Austen standing in this very room. Once seated, we removed all our extra layers and began perusing the menu.

An impeccably dressed waiter approached, wearing black slacks and a white dress shirt with a gold brocade vest. His uniform was complete with a crisp white apron that went down to his knees.

After giving him our drink order, Edward put his menu down, clearing his throat. "Okay, ladies, so how about you educate Emmett and me on the significance of this building."

"Well, let's see. We should probably start with the basics." I turned to Emmett. "I don't mean this question to be insulting, but do you even know who Jane Austen is?"

"Do I know who she is? Yeess." He drew out the word, rolling his eyes.

"Have I read any of her books? That would be a big _hell_ no." He chuckled, shaking his head as if that should have been obvious.

"Thank god you at least know who she is," Alice said.

I chuckled, glancing at Edward who was watching me intently. "She lived in Bath for about five years during the early 1800s. In her day, the Pump Room was the place to see and be seen."

Alice piped up. "But it wasn't a restaurant then; this room would have been mostly empty, except for a small orchestra and perhaps a few chairs."

"People would 'take turns around the room' or 'promenade,' meaning they walked around the perimeter, socializing and meeting people," I added, casually glancing between Emmett and Edward as I explained.

When my eyes met Edward's, he winked, causing me to lose my train of thought. How something as simple as briefly closing one eye could affect me so intensely and immediately was mindboggling. I smiled gently, mentally attempting to slow my rapidly beating heart from pumping excess blood to my girly bits, which were now twitching and tingling. _Damn him and his sexy winking! _

Alice spoke up, hopefully distracting everyone from noticing my sudden incoherency. "And they drank the spa water that is pumped in here." She motioned to the stone fountain on the room's edge, a sunlit window its background. Water trickled down from three openings into open-mouthed ceramic fish.

"We can get a cup of the water for fifty pence," Edward said, scanning the menu and then glancing up at me.

"Yes, I definitely want to try it," I said.

The waiter returned, asking if we'd made our lunch selections. Alice and I both ordered the poached chicken and celery salad with tarragon mayonnaise on onion seed bread. Edward went the breakfast route with Eggs Benedict, while Emmett opted for heavier fare and ordered pork chops.

Once we finished eating and the bill was paid, we walked to the fountain where a gentleman with a white powdered wig stood ready to serve. We purchased only two cups of water to share because I'd heard that it wasn't exactly tasty.

Alice and I cautiously sipped the natural spring water at the same time. "It's warmer than I thought it would be," I observed.

"Yuuuk . . . it's so . . . so . . . minerally?" Alice screeched.

"That would be due to the twenty or so minerals that are in it." I laughed, handing my cup to Edward.

He took a generous swig, swirling it in his mouth like wine before swallowing. Grimacing, he said, "Yeah, I'll pass on seconds. It's supposed to have curative properties though, right?"

I nodded. "Then that's why it tastes bad. Almost anything good for you always tastes bad."

Emmett grabbed Alice's cup, taking a quick gulp. "Aaahh, refreshing! Nothing like hot iron water." He grinned.

"That wasn't too torturous, was it, Emmett?" I teased as we left the Jane Austen Center, a museum of sorts that detailed her novels as well as the time she'd lived in Bath.

As we headed toward the Assembly Rooms, Emmett zipped up his hoodie, pulling the hood over his head. "It's true that I wouldn't have stopped there if it wasn't for you two lovely ladies. However, I am all for expanding my sensibilities, so it's all good."

Edward reached for my hand, squeezing it softly as he took it into his. I squeezed back, smiling up at him.

Alice quipped, "Oh, yeah? And exactly how were your sensibilities expanded learning about Austen?"

Edward and I walked behind them, silently observing their interaction.

Raising his eyebrows, Emmett feigned offense. "Is this a test, Miss Brandon?"

She giggled, nodding her head affirmatively.

"Well, I learned that Austen never married, which I found surprising, considering all her books are romances about finding your one true love. I learned that she was proposed to at one time and accepted, only to break the engagement the very next day."

Alice's smile faded, her countenance turning wistful. "Well done, Emmett. Even though it was commonplace to marry for social and economic reasons, Austen was unique in her day. All of her characters fought against that norm, and she wrote in a letter to her niece that anything was better than marrying without affection."

I knew Alice well, and it was obvious to me she was thinking of Jasper and her confusion as to whether she had enough affection for him to marry him at some point. We had talked about it last night at the hotel before we'd met the guys for dinner.

She'd confided that her feelings for Emmett had intensified after spending the afternoon with him. She found herself enjoying things with him that Jasper would never do. Emmett wasn't afraid to make an ass of himself to get a laugh out of her. Though she loved many things about Jasper, sometimes his reserved, introverted personality meant that she did things alone. Jasper would never accompany Alice to do the chicken dance at a wedding, and when meeting new people, he would sit back quietly while she enjoyed chatting with them. We had talked about the cliché that opposites attract. She posed the question that though they do attract, did that necessarily mean that they made a good match long-term? I had no answers, but I offered her a listening ear and a hug.

I had no idea if Edward sensed something off about Alice when she talked about Austen not marrying for any reason except affection; however, he changed the subject quite suddenly from Austen's broken engagement to something less personal. "Well, Alice, I learned that many of Austen's characters, as well as Austen herself, visited the Assembly Rooms. This is where they held the balls, right?"

Alice glanced over her shoulder smiling, "That is correct. You both get an A+. Well done."

"This is the circus, kids!" I announced, motioning to the buildings up ahead.

Emmett looked at me like I was looney. "What? The circus?"

Chuckling, I explained, "Yes, the circus. Those buildings are called the Circus, meaning 'circle' in Latin. Bath is renowned for its architecture. The Circus and also the Royal Crescent are some of the reasons why."

Alice slowed, stepping behind me to unzip my backpack and retrieve my tourist guide book. "Also, Austen mentions both buildings in a few of her novels," she added.

Flipping through the pages before settling on one, she read aloud, "The Circus is an example of Georgian architecture completed in 1768. Divided into three segments of equal length, the Circus is a circular space surrounded by large townhouses. Each of the curved segments faces one of the three entrances."

"It's pretty amazing how the row of townhouses is curved, isn't it?" I looked up at Edward.

"Yeah, very unique architecture. I'd love to see inside, wouldn't you?"

I grinned, nodding my head. "Unfortunately, that's not possible. These are all residences."

We passed the Circus heading toward the Assembly Rooms, walking in comfortable silence with Edward's hand in mine. Alice and Emmett walked ahead of us side-by-side.

"Here we are." Alice motioned toward a building with the same honey-colored stone and similar design as the Pump Room.

The Assembly Rooms comprised three rooms with distinct functions: a ballroom about the length of a football field, a tea room where concerts were also held, and a card room used for listening to music and playing games.

We entered the card room first. It was uniquely octagonal, the walls a cheerful yellow that contrasted beautifully with brilliant white dual fireplaces, wainscoting, and crown molding. Entering the tea room, the subtle cream-colored décor allowed the rows and rows of white columns, accented with crown molding to steal all attention. A second floor with balcony was also lined with columns that ran the entire circumference of the room.

"Now _this_ is impressive," Edward mumbled, turning his head to take in the entire room.

"You can't go wrong with columns. There's something regal and elegant about them," I agreed.

We took a turn around the room in 18th century style, quietly observing the magnificent décor until I broke the silence. "Here's a little mindless trivia for you. Austen had an older brother named Edward."

"Yeah?"

"Uh-huh."

"It was a very common name back then."

"Yes, but it isn't now, so how did your parents choose your name?"

"I was named after my paternal grandfather, Phillip Edward Cullen."

"The one who started your family's company?"

"Yeah, that's right." He released my hand, clasping his right arm snuggly around my shoulder, while threading his left hand in mine. His desire to be as close to me as possible, creating two points of contact instead of just one, touched me and feelings of peace welled up within me.

As we entered the ballroom where Jane Austen must have come on many occasions, I gasped out loud. "Oh, Edward, it's . . . oh, god, it's just stunning . . . so elegant."

He hummed his agreement, and I released his hand momentarily as I stepped further into the room, pivoting slowly to see every detail of its splendor. The light powder blue of the walls and ceiling was striking against the vivid white wainscoting, fireplaces, crown molding, and columns. Original crystal chandeliers were spaced evenly along the entire length of the ceiling, shining on the light hardwood floor below.

A low, husky voice pulled me from my reverie. "May I have this dance, Miss Swan?"

I turned to see Edward with his hand outstretched. I grinned wildly. "Here?"

"This is a ballroom, isn't it?" He grinned crookedly.

"Well, yes, but now?" My eyes darted around the room. Alice and Emmett were on the other side, engaged in conversation, and there were just a handful of other tourists in the room. "Without music?" I asked, looking back at him.

Hand still extended, palm up, he stepped closer to me. "I can make our own music."

I could not refuse him, even if it meant dancing in front of strangers who would undoubtedly have their eyes on us. The second I placed my hand in his, he pulled me forcefully into his arms, our bodies pressing tightly together. I had anticipated we would move randomly in a small circle, round and round, with no particular steps–like teenagers at prom.

Instead, he clasped my right hand, pulling it up to the side, and placed his other hand on my back, creating the classic ballroom dance pose. In response, I positioned my left hand on his back, just below his shoulder blade.

"Just relax and let my body lead you," he said assuredly.

_Oh, fuck. Yes, I will let your body lead me anywhere, anyhow, anyplace._

Edward moved commandingly as I followed, and we were as one, waltzing smoothly and effortlessly across the ballroom floor. Our gazes were locked for a few seconds until he bent his head down, grazing his lips against my ear as he began quietly singing.

"_My life is brilliant._

_My love is pure._

_I saw an angel._

_Of that I'm sure."_

Had I not been held securely in his strong arms, I surely would have dropped to the floor, my body having turned to jelly, liquefied by the burning heat of his sensual voice. He took a breath, his lips kissing that little spot just in front of my ear, and then continued his serenade.

_"She smiled at me on the train._

_She was with another friend._

_But I won't lose no sleep on that,_

_'Cause I've got a plan."_

His nose grazed my cheek as he pulled ever so slightly away and looked into my eyes. I met his stare, and he began singing again, his mouth so close to mine that his breath caressed my lips.

"_You're beautiful. You're beautiful._

_You're beautiful, it's true._

_I saw your face in a crowded place,_

_And I don't know what to do,_

_'Cause I have to be with you."_

I knew the song well. It was James Blunt's "You're Beautiful_,_" which I happened to have on my iPod. I had listened to it so often that I knew the lyrics by heart, so I noticed right away that Edward had changed a few words. The minor changes transformed the song into a perfect description of the first time we saw each other on the train platform en route to Paris.

Edward halted the dance, murmuring that it looked as if Alice and Emmett wanted to leave. I didn't bother to look. Still in his arms, I whispered, "I love your voice. Thank you."

Arching up onto my tiptoes, I kissed him quickly, and then we turned, hand in hand, to see Emmett and Alice smirking at us from across the room. I shot Alice my best Cheshire Cat grin, following them out of the glorious ballroom where I'd had my first dance with my Adonis.

We strolled back toward the Circus, continuing on Brock Street to the Royal Crescent. It was similar to the Circus architecture, except that the buildings formed a single crescent. We took pictures of the uniquely designed townhouses before leisurely walking along the perimeter of the building.

"Okay, out with it, Edward. Not many people know how to waltz these days."

"Oh, _that_." He smirked. "Yeah, my parents are to blame or to thank for that, depending on how you look at it. I mentioned before that my mom oversees Cullen Industries' charitable foundation. There has been an annual ball for the foundation to raise money for as long as I can remember. My parents always required me and Rosie to attend with them. It's a formal event–everyone wears evening gowns and tuxedos, and they have live music and dancing. So when I was about twelve, my mom decided I should know how to dance properly, so I could schmooze the rich ladies at the ball. My dad taught me how to waltz with my mom as my practice partner. I hated it at the time, but later as an executive of the company, I was grateful that I could dance with the wealthy contributors without looking like an ass." Edward chuckled, scratching his scruffy jaw line. "Your turn."

"Huh?" I said, playing dumb.

"You know what I'm talking about." He tickled my side causing me to squeal. "I can tell if a woman is blindly following my lead or if she knows what she's doing. Your waltz was flawless. So who taught you?"

"Flawless, huh?" I grinned. "Well, thank you, sir. You were pretty impressive yourself."

I pulled him closer, hooking my thumb in his belt loop and my fingers into his back pocket. I had to consciously tell myself to not squeeze his ass. "I took a ballroom dance class in college. I've been somewhat obsessed with that type of dancing since I was a little girl . . . actually, with all dancing. I fell in love with ballet when I went to see _The Nutcracker_. Then after I saw the movie, _The King and I, _ballroom dancing became my obsession. Have you seen it?"

"No, I haven't."

"Well, it was my first introduction to ballroom dancing. I always wanted to learn, so when I saw they offered classes at ASU, I signed up for a semester. I did it just for fun. I never dreamed I'd find a man who could actually waltz with me." I giggled, feeling like I'd found my Prince Charming.

"So I made your dream come true?" He grinned.

I nodded, smiling coyly.

"Remind me to thank my mom then."

"Thank her for me, too."

He kissed my forehead, mumbling that he would be sure to tell her. "So you said earlier that some of Austen's characters mention the Circus and the Royal Crescent. In what context?"

"In _Northanger Abbey_, some of the characters come here to promenade. The beautiful architecture and the views of the city made it a popular place to walk and socialize."

"I know you must have some Austen lines memorized since she is one of your favorite authors. Share one with me?"

"Well, I declare, Edward," I said in my best southern accent. "What is with all the questions about her? Have I converted you to all things Austen?"

He chuckled. "Um, honestly, not quite. I can't say I feel compelled to read her books, but I do enjoy listening to you talk about her. Your enthusiasm is refreshing."

I smiled shyly, slightly embarrassed by my literary geekiness. Edward pulled me tighter against his body as we continued our promenade in front of the Royal Crescent. "I like it when you quote literature because it gives me a glimpse into your soul."

His comment stripped me bare, having naively never considered that quoting literature exposed me in that way. My head snapped up, appraising Edward's expression. His eyes radiated kindness, and his mouth matched them as the corners turned upward ever so slightly.

"How so?" I gulped, knowing full well what he meant.

"You told me that you memorize the parts that touch you in some way. Knowing the types of things that speak to your soul gives me insight to you as a person. Tell me one of your favorite Austen lines? Please," he coaxed, his sexy crooked smile on display. I could deny him nothing.

"'_In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed.'" _No longer able to bear the intensity of his eyes on mine, I looked away, lowering my gaze to the sidewalk. _"'You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.'"_

"Damn, I am such a girl–I can't believe I'm relating to an Austen novel." He chuckled as his free hand tugged anxiously on his hair, the other still resting on my shoulder. "She wrote exactly what I felt when I realized I couldn't stay away from you anymore. What was the first line? _In vain have I struggled?"_

I nodded. "I knew you were my Mr. Darcy." I smiled, running my hand up and down his lower back as he looked down at me with raised eyebrows.

"That quote is from Mr. Darcy in _Pride and Prejudice_ when he confesses his love to Elizabeth," I explained.

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I just might have to read it because this Mr. Darcy and I seem to have a few things in common."

I didn't want to embarrass him, but I couldn't suppress my laugh. "It'll be our little secret, Edward," I whispered through my grin, which he returned with a smile and a kiss on my nose.

Later that evening, we found ourselves indulging at a local pub, recommended by the hotel's concierge. We were intrigued when he'd told us the building had been used as a debtor's prison and when live music was mentioned, we all agreed it sounded like a great place to let loose. We talked and laughed over dinner and beer. Later, we played pool, enjoying some cover tunes by a local band.

On the walk back to the hotel, Edward whispered in my ear that he didn't want to say goodnight to me yet and asked if I would come to his room for a while. My Inner Vixen shouted - _Um, hell yes!_ However, my Outer Lady politely responded, "Okay, I'd like that."

We said our goodnights to Emmett and Alice, leaving me wondering if she would invite Emmett to hang out alone or not.

Once inside Edward's room, he offered me a drink from the mini-bar. I was still buzzing a bit from the beers consumed at the pub, so I asked for a bottle of water instead. He handed me the water and motioned for me to have a seat on the sofa, excusing himself to the bathroom. Just as in Florence, his room was larger than mine with a king-sized bed, sofa, and a small dinette table. Scanning the room, I noticed the iHome clock/stereo on the nightstand and Edward's iPod docked in it. I jumped up and crossed the room to the nightstand. Removing the iPod, I began scrolling through his playlist–I was looking for one in particular. When I found the song Edward had sung to me in the ballroom, I returned the iPod to the dock and pressed play. Listening to the opening lyrics, I conjured up the memory of Edward's voice and the feeling of dancing in his arms.

_My life is brilliant._

_My love is pure._

Hearing the bathroom door open, I turned. Edward stood silhouetted in the door frame, looking at me with a piercing stare as he began singing along with the song.

_I saw an angel._

_Of that I'm sure._

His mouth stopped moving as he began walking toward me. He crossed the room so slowly and seductively, like a predator slowly approaching his prey. His face was serene and light while his eyes were stormy and dark. They would not release me from their hypnotic gaze, and I was a willing and eager captive.

Standing motionless in front of me, his alluring stare lulled me into a lust-induced trance. He took my wrist in his hand, stroking the sensitive skin on the underside as his other hand caressed my neck before pulling me against his chest. He buried his face in my hair before trailing his nose down my neck, skimming along my tingling skin. I welcomed his affection with eager arms surrounding his waist and wandering fingers exploring the muscular contours of his back. His mouth pressed firmly against my neck, just above my collarbone and then continued a journey upwards, his lips slightly parted, ghosting across my skin while his tongue periodically tasted my neck with a small amount of suction. My breathing accelerated and my legs quite literally quivered. His lips ended their worshipful adornment of my neck, and he leaned back slightly, looking into my eyes before softly pressing his lips to mine. His mouth was wet and warm and his lips, so full and soft. As his tongue languidly grazed my lip, I knew that I could kiss this man for days and never tire. Just as the ache between my legs began to intensify, Edward pulled his mouth from mine, cradling my face in his hands.

"And to think that if that train hadn't stopped for whatever reason, we wouldn't be here together right now," he whispered throatily.

"Tell me about that day . . . about what you were thinking." We had never talked about it, and I was suddenly very curious as to how he'd interpreted our first few random meetings.

He smiled. "Let's sit." Taking my hand, he led me to the sofa where we sat closely.

"The first thing that got my attention was your laugh. Well, no, that's not right. The first thing that got my attention was the sound of Alice falling out of the train." We laughed. "I was standing on the platform, talking with Emmett. Both of us were wondering why the train had stopped. Then I heard a noise, and I turned to see Alice sprawled out in the gravel."

"Uh, yeah, poor Alice." I giggled.

"It's funny now, but I really did feel badly for her. I was looking at her, curious as to whether she was okay. Then I heard laughter, and that's when I saw your face and your smile. I couldn't look away–you were so beautiful."

"Thank you," I whispered, unable to hold back a giddy smile.

Edward reached out, combing the ends of my straight hair with his long fingers, and then twirled a strand around his finger. "I was still staring while you walked to the platform. Suddenly, you looked right at me. Normally, I would look away if I got caught staring at a woman, but when our eyes met, it became much more than just your beauty." He looked away, sighing while rummaging one hand through his hair. "Damn, I don't know how to explain it, and it will probably sound ridiculous."

"Maybe I can help." He looked back at me curiously. Since he was having trouble describing it, I knew he must have experienced something similar to what I had, so I inhaled a deep breath and took a risk. "You felt like you couldn't look away even if you wanted to, like a magnetic field was pulling you to me, and you felt as if you knew me already, like I was looking into your soul–as if our souls were connected."

For a moment, he was silent and expressionless, but then he beamed. "Yes, yes, yes, and yes . . . all of the above."

His hand that had been busy playing in my hair moved up to my neck, gently pulling me toward him and into a supple kiss. He released me, dropping his hand down to mine. "I'm glad it wasn't all in my head. I'd never experienced anything like that before."

"Same here. I couldn't stop thinking about you, and I was sick at the thought that I would never see you again, never even know your name."

"When I saw you in Notre Dame, to say I was shocked would be an understatement. Then you left so quickly. Between my shock and your quick departure, I didn't find out anything about you. I actually was going to follow you, but by the time I found Emmett, you were gone."

"Ha! I knew you were stalking me," I accused teasingly.

"No, I _tried_ to stalk you, but apparently I am a pathetic stalker." He chuckled. "It really was just chance, or perhaps fate, that we saw each other at the Louvre. That museum is huge, so for us to have been in the same room at the same time is pretty mindboggling."

"Agreed. My heart nearly stopped when I turned around and saw you standing there, looking at that painting of Napoleon."

"Yeah?" He grinned. "Why is that?"

"Why did my heart nearly stop?"

Edward nodded, still smiling.

"Um, well, partially because I was so stunned that I'd run into you again, and also because you are so freakishly handsome that my heart does flip-flops."

"Freakishly handsome?" His face twisted up in puzzlement. "I'm not sure if that's a compliment."

"It _is_ a compliment. I said freakish because no earthly being should be so beautiful. You're an anomaly among us mere mortals."

Edward's eyes widened as his mouth fell open, his lips moving as if to form a word but no sound came out. Shaking his head in bewilderment, he rubbed the side of his face, stroking his jaw line. He was utterly speechless.

I smiled, waiting silently, unwilling to rescue him from his embarrassed state because I found his modesty utterly adorable.

Finally, he responded with humor, attempting to deflect attention from himself. "Wow . . . um, thanks, but–uh, note to self–Bella has a flair for the dramatic. Don't believe anything she says because she _grossly_ exaggerates."

"Ha-ha! Whatever, Edward." I giggled. "Okay, so back to our story. We finally officially introduced ourselves at the Louvre and hung out for a while with Alice and Emmett. What happened after Alice and I left?"

"You mean after you left and didn't invite us to go with you? Emmett and I both sulked like little boys who'd just had their Big Wheels stolen."

"Seriously?" I honestly found it hard to believe that while I was thinking about him incessantly, he was simultaneously pining for me.

Edward paused, tugging on his earlobe nervously. "Weelll . . ." He dragged out the word hesitantly. "Yes, seriously. You know Emmett likes Alice, and that was immediate when he first met her. He's actually the reason we followed you to Munich." I must have looked surprised because he quickly continued. "Don't get me wrong, Bella. I couldn't stop thinking about you, but I kept telling myself it was for the best. I was convinced that a relationship would be a bad idea. But Emmett did not want to let Alice get away, so he pestered me relentlessly until I agreed to go to Munich. It was a long shot–we didn't know if you'd show up at Hofbräuhaus or not."

"Remind me to thank Emmett for being relentless."

"Yeah, no kidding." Edward chuckled. "I owe him." He lifted my hand to his mouth, kissing it. "It was on the train to Munich that the James Blunt song came up randomly on my play list. It was perfect; I couldn't stop listening to it after that."

"But he didn't get the girl that he saw on the subway."

"No, he didn't go after the girl, but I did . . . eventually. We have a happier ending," Edward said, a lightness in his voice. Suddenly, he lifted both of my legs, pulling them onto his lap. I leaned back against the throw pillow in the corner of the couch. He began to remove my black high heels, but then stopped. "May I?"

I nodded with a smile. He removed my shoes, placing them on the floor. Quietly, he began gently rubbing my calves. After a minute, he deepened the pressure, massaging away the ache from walking all day. "What's your favorite color, Bella?"

"That's an impossible question."

"You're kidding? That was supposed to be the easy question."

"I don't have just one favorite color. It depends on if we're talking about clothes, a car, or the color scheme of my house."

"Let's go with clothes."

"I like black. I think black is sexy. Oh, and red. Yeah, I like to wear red, too."

"You are sexy in any color," he asserted with a sultry edge. Before I even had time to blush, he continued, "Favorite food?"

"What is this–twenty questions?" I laughed.

"Something like that, I guess. How about we make it five questions instead of twenty?"

"Okay, but let's establish some rules. Five questions each. We have to answer them honestly, of course. And you're allowed to pass on one question if you don't want to answer it."

"Agreed," he said eagerly. "Favorite food?"

"Mexican."

"Longest relationship?"

_Oh, shit. _

My face flushed, and I worried that it was noticeable. Nearly in a panic, it dawned on me that it was a straightforward question. I didn't have to give any details about the relationship.

"Um, almost three years."

"Why have you chosen not to date?"

_What the–_

I was completely blindsided. How the hell did he know about Operation Nun? "Uh . . . what–" I stuttered.

Edward smiled reassuringly, his fingers dancing softly across my leg. "Emmett told me."

"Oh, right. I forgot about that. Uh, yeah, he and I talked briefly about that at Neuschwanstein Castle." Twirling a strand of hair around my finger, I contemplated telling Edward about my marriage and divorce. "Um, pass," I croaked.

It was the perfect opportunity to tell him, but I was terrified that he would somehow see me as less, as a failure, as tainted. I'd fall from the pedestal upon which he seemed to have placed me. I feared that particular subject would rupture our bubble of bliss.

Edward regarded me for a moment, his eyebrows knitted in contemplation. "As you wish," he conceded. "Last question . . ." He stopped massaging my legs, taking both of my hands in his. "What is your greatest fear?"

Between the last question and this one, solemnity hung heavy in the air. Goddamn, this "game" had unexpectedly morphed into a therapy session of probing questions. Fear is such a personal thing; it reveals so much, stripping you emotionally bare in front of another, and empowering the observer with knowledge of how to hurt you. I had given all of myself to Jacob, and, in doing so, I'd effectively handed him the power to crush me, which he ultimately did.

Edward rubbed my hands with his thumbs, and then lifted one to his mouth, kissing it as he'd come to do frequently. When I looked into his patient eyes, I knew I had to offer him this part of myself. I'd already passed on one question, and if I kept stonewalling him, he certainly would do the same. With a sigh, I murmured timidly, "My greatest fear is to lose somebody I love."

Without waiting for his reaction, I quickly launched into my own questions. "Now it's your turn to be under the microscope," I announced gleefully.

He chuckled. "All right. Turnabout is fair play. What've ya got?"

"Favorite color?"

"Black."

"Copy cat."

"No, kindred souls." He smirked.

"Favorite food?"

"Now you're the copy cat–you're stealing my questions."

"Oh, don't get your boxers in a bunch," I retorted. "I'm not stealing _all_ your questions, and even if I do, just take it as a compliment."

Edward laughed. "I'm not wearing boxers, so they can't possibly be in a bunch."

One errant eyebrow involuntarily cocked in surprise. "Briefs?"

"Hell, no." He twisted his mouth, scrunching up his nose as if I'd insulted him.

"But . . . ?" I was momentarily confused. _No boxers . . . no briefs_. _Processing, processing._ "Ohhh . . . ohh . . . commando?" My eyes flew wide open, and I must have looked a bit too happy with the idea because Edward burst into a fit of laughter.

Punching him in the arm, I warned as I giggled along with him, "Don't laugh at me!"

"I'm sorry. It was just….oh, god, your face was priceless." He exhaled heavily, recovering from his belly laugh. "Um, yes, commando. Always. Okay, so what was the question again?" He grinned mischievously. "Oh, yeah, favorite food. That's tough because I love most food, but one of my favorites is lobster–really, any seafood."

_Holy fuckarooni! _I heard something about lobster, but I could barely focus on his words, and I was struggling to formulate my next question. All I could see was a visualization of his amply-endowed naked dick hiding just behind the buttoned-fly on his jeans. _Commando . . . mmm._

"Bella? Earth to Bella."

"Oh! Sorry, I was thinking of my next question. I'm going to steal another one of yours."

Edward's fantastic leg massage had moved down to my feet, but I needed to be closer to him–and to his button-flys. I lifted my legs from his lap, drawing them up and under my bottom as I scooted closer to him. He put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me under his arm and against his chest.

"Thanks for the massage. You have very talented fingers," I purred, reaching for his hand. As I glanced up at him, he looked as if he were about to erupt into another laugh attack. He gave me that crooked half-smile but with a particularly roguish edge to it.

"What?" I asked innocently.

He snickered, shaking his head amusedly. "Nothing . . . nothing. You are very welcome. I probably enjoyed massaging your legs more than you did. Okay, so do you have another question for me?"

"Longest relationship?"

"Interestingly enough, same as yours. About three years."

"Okay. Uh, next one–tell me about your friend who died in Iraq?"

The jovial fire in Edward's eyes extinguished immediately. "That isn't really a question, but, regardless, I pass."

_Goddamnit! _I cursed myself for possibly ruining our evening by bringing "it" up, but if we were going to have a real relationship, he would have to open up to me about the war at some point. I knew I was pushing my luck with my next question, but if Edward could ask it of me, then surely I could do the same and expect an answer. In the spirit of tonight's copy-cat game, I lifted Edward's hand and kissed the back of it in reassurance before asking him to make himself vulnerable. "_Your_ greatest fear?"

Edward held my gaze for a moment before looking down at our joined hands. He exhaled forcefully and then looked into my eyes again. "Losing somebody I love," he whispered.

I couldn't say I was surprised by his answer, but I was somewhat amazed that he'd actually answered the question. It was a small step in the right direction toward revealing our true selves to each other. "Kindred souls," I whispered with a wistful smile.

Revealing our greatest fear to the other and finding it to be the same, removed the suffocating somberness of uncomfortable subjects. Though there was an enigmatic connection the moment we'd first looked into each other's eyes, the link felt strengthened, now with its roots in truth. It was as if peeling back a layer of ourselves added a concrete strand of knowledge to the existing invisible threads of energy between us.

"Yes, kindred souls," Edward mused quietly.

Between his seductive adoration of my neck earlier and the emotional ties pulsing between us, the sensual longing welling up within me was overwhelming. I launched myself at him, crushing my mouth against his as my hands flew wildly into his hair, tugging and exploring.

His response was as frenzied as mine. As our teeth knocked together and he sucked my upper lip between his teeth, our breathing became labored. He turned and lifted himself onto his knees as he gently pushed me onto my back, laying me out beneath him on the couch.

Passion poured from his gaze as I caressed the stubble on his jaw, and my focus rested on his pouty, luscious lips that were agape as he panted.

"Edward," I moaned, pulling his face to mine, tasting the deliciousness of his mouth. As he kissed me ravenously, he lowered his body to mine, thrusting his hardness between my legs. I whimpered with want as my back arched, lifting my hips up to the source of my yearning, and then suddenly, somehow, my rational voice broke through the dizzying cloud of desire, urging me to slow down. It was the voice of my greatest fear–Edward might not want me once he knew about my marriage and divorce, my greatest failure.

I desired him sexually more than any man I'd ever known, but my devastation would be compounded if he left me after making love to me. We both had layers of baggage to reveal before becoming even more vulnerable to each other by having sex. "Edward," I panted. "Baby, I'm sorry."

He pushed himself up on his elbows, lifting his body off of mine. "Bella?" His voice was breathy and full of concern.

"Um, I think we should slow down," I murmured, biting my lip.

"Okay, sure," Edward said. "Sorry . . . I thought you–" His voice trailed off as he sat up, pulling me into a sitting position beside him.

"I did, I mean–I do! I'm the one that's sorry, Edward. I mean, I attacked _you,_ and then I stopped. I feel like such a tease." I couldn't look at him; my eyes darted around the room as I anxiously played with my hair.

Edward chuckled, reaching for my hand and removing it from my almost-sex hair. "Bella, it's okay. We really haven't known each other very long, so I understand if you're not ready."

I smiled in relief. "Edward, I want you to understand that it isn't because I'm not sure about how I feel about you. I just . . . well, I know we did more in Florence, but that's because I thought that was the only night we had. Now that we have time, I just think that we should know each other better." I sighed heavily. "I just can't give myself to you that way yet–I'm scared of losing you."

"Why would you lose me? Do you not believe that I'm serious now about a relationship . . . because I was so opposed to it before?"

"No, not at all. I believe you, but . . . well, we probably should be able to play twenty questions without passing on any of the questions." I looked up cautiously through my lashes, unsure of his reaction.

"Ahhh." He nodded. "I see what you're saying. So how about we find something to do that will distract us from temptation. I'm not ready for you to leave yet."

"Good, because I don't want to leave," I hummed happily. "What did you have in mind?"

"We could watch a movie?"

"Perfect."

"But we'd have to be on the bed to see the television. Do you think you can control yourself?" Edward smirked, barely holding back a laugh.

I reached out impulsively, pinching his nipple. "Hell yes! I'm the one who stopped, remember?"

Edward groaned as he grabbed his nipple. "If you were trying to punish me, you failed–that's nothing but a turn on."

"Oh?" My eyebrows danced in mock seduction. "I'll keep that in mind."

Chuckling, Edward got up and retrieved the remote from the nightstand. He turned on the television and began looking for a movie while I took a moment in the bathroom.

As I washed my hands, I looked up, giggling at my reflection. My hair was a haystack, even worse than when I wake up in the morning. Edward's toiletry bag sat on the side of the sink. I peeked inside and found a comb to tame my hair the best I could, smiling when I noticed the pink-tinted patches on my chin and cheek from Edward's five o'clock shadow. _Little love burns_, I hummed to myself. I grinned, giddy with love and lust as I licked my slightly swollen lips.

I returned to find Edward on the bed, propped up against the headboard where he'd placed all the pillows. He'd removed his shoes and black pullover sweater, leaving on a white v-neck t-shirt, which much to my delight, nicely showcased his sparse but ample chest hair and well-defined biceps.

"There isn't a lot to choose from, Bella. Have you see _The Bourne Supremacy_?"

As I crawled across the bed, he lifted his arm, drawing me against his side.

"I have, but I love the Jason Bourne movies," I explained. "I could definitely watch it again."

"So you're telling me you like Jim Carrey's juvenile humor _and_ you like testosterone-fueled, shoot 'em up movies?"

I looked up at him and shrugged. "Uh, yeah, that's what I'm telling you."

He beamed, shaking his head. "You're just too perfect. I'm afraid I'm going to wake up, and you will have just been the fantasy woman in my dreams."

He leaned closer to kiss me, but I tucked my chin down, nuzzling against his chest. "No kissing, mister. Your kisses are like a drug to me. Once I start, I can't stop."

His chest shook against my face as he laughed. "I love how you speak in metaphors all the time. If I'm your drug, please don't ever go to Edward rehab, okay?"

"That was actually a simile," I corrected smugly.

"Smartass," he growled, pinching my side. I shrieked, burying my face in his neck, laughing loudly. He kissed the top of my head, gently rubbing the spot that he'd pinched. "Okay, settle down, little swan. Shall we start the movie?"

"Yep, I'm ready." I cuddled up against him, entangling my legs with his.

After about an hour into the movie, my eyes became heavy. I considered going back to my room, but I was too content in Edward's arms to tear myself away, so I allowed sleep to overtake me.

As I turned over, voices pulled me from my sleep. I groggily looked around, realizing the voices were coming from the television. Edward was asleep next to me, his arm draped over my side. I looked for the remote and found it on the bed next to Edward. Carefully reaching over him, I grabbed it and turned off the television, quietly placing back it on the nightstand.

Settling back down onto the bed, I pulled Edward's arm tighter around me. That must have woken him slightly because he repositioned himself, pressing snuggly against my back, and I smiled as I returned to my dreams.

I was peacefully lost in slumber for an unknown amount of time until a piercing cry jolted me to consciousness. Gasping, I sat straight up, my heart thunderous in my chest as adrenaline coursed through me. I looked around but didn't see anything unusual. Edward was still asleep. Perhaps the scream was in my dreams.

As I began to lie back down, a deep, guttural cry came from Edward. He was turned away from me, so I sat up on my knees, leaning over him so I could see his face. Tears covered his cheeks, and his face was contorted as if he was in pain, but he was clearly still sleeping. I observed him for a few seconds, contemplating whether I should wake him or not. His breathing was shallow and rapid, and his hairline was damp. I then realized his whole body shimmered from a light sheen of perspiration.

"James!" he sobbed. "James! No!" Edward gasped in between torturous moans. "Sergeant Jones, cover me," Edward yelled, his legs thrashing violently.

My vision clouded as my eyes welled up–I couldn't stand to see him suffer another moment. "Edward," I said quietly, not wanting to startle him.

"Edward," I said a little more loudly. After no response, I yelled, shaking his arm, "Edward, wake up!"

He gasped loudly, sitting straight up in bed, eyes wide and darting around fearfully.

"Edward, it's okay. It's Bella. You're fine."

I scooted closer, placing myself in his line of vision, but he didn't look at me or respond in any way. As I put my hand on his shoulder to comfort him, he jumped, pushing my hand away. I moved away from him, and we sat in silence for a while. Everything in my being told me to hold him, to comfort him, but he clearly did not want that. My thoughts raced as I analyzed the situation, trying to find a solution.

Suddenly, he swung his legs around and placed them on the floor, sitting on the edge of the bed so that his back was to me. His elbows rested on his knees, and his head fell forward into his hands as he let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry I woke you up," Edward whispered hoarsely. Before I could answer, he muttered, barely audible to my ears, "I can't believe I fell asleep."

Crawling on my knees across the sheets to his side, I slowly placed my hand on his back. He flinched but didn't push me away this time. "Edward, don't apologize. You can't help it. Um, I've read that it helps to talk about bad dreams." I rubbed his back gently.

With his face still buried in his hands, he laughed overzealously. "Is that right?" he bellowed sarcastically. "What the fuck do they know?"

I was stunned; I'd never seen Edward angry. The worst I'd ever seen him was in moments of sadness or aloofness. "Okay, baby. We don't have to talk. We could just lie down and try to go back to sleep."

"I think you should go, Bella," he mumbled without any emotion. He lifted his face from the cover of his hands but kept his gaze down, looking at the floor.

My heart sank, and my stomach twisted as feelings of rejection swirled in my head. "You want me to go?" I whispered, my voice cracking.

"You won't get a good night's sleep if you stay here. I'll probably wake you up again." He lifted his hand to his disheveled hair, scratching his head and pulling at the roots. His hands were trembling.

"I don't care. I can't leave you like this . . . when you're clearly still upset."

"I'm fine, Bella," he nearly shouted. He sighed heavily as if to regain his composure. In a quieter but authoritative voice, he said, "I need you to go . . . _now_."

I had never felt more helpless in my entire life except when Jake had walked out on me. Then, I was helpless to control the direction my life was taking, and helpless to comfort myself. Now, I was helpless to comfort Edward. I wasn't sure which was more painful.

Very slowly, with a measure of fear of rejection, I leaned over, placing a tenuous kiss on Edward's cheek. I crawled off the bed and found my shoes next to the sofa. After slipping them on, I walked to the door with a very heavy heart. I placed my hand on the door knob, looking back at Edward. He was still sitting on the bed, frozen in place. As tears began to form once again, I opened the door to leave.

"Bella?"

I stopped in the open doorway, turning toward his voice to find his eyes finally meeting mine.

"It's not you, Bella. It's me." He looked away, rubbing his temple as though trying to soothe a headache. "I'll see you in the morning."

Good night, Edward." I hurriedly left his room and walked toward my own as the weight of realization settled on my shoulders. For the first time, I began to comprehend why Edward had been so adamantly against a relationship, not wanting to subject me to all the shit that comes with him, as he had so aptly put it. It seemed our bubble of bliss had burst.

* * *

**A/N: Just in case you've forgotten, James (who Edward was dreaming about) is Edward's friend and fellow soldier who died in the battle for which Edward was awarded a medal. Edward risked his life to save James, but he still died from his wounds. (Refer to Chapter 10 if you want to refresh your memory.) **

**A/N: Just in case you've forgotten, James (who Edward was dreaming about) is Edward's friend and fellow soldier who died in the battle for which Edward was awarded a medal. Edward risked his life to save James, but he still died from his wounds. (Refer to Chapter 10 if you want to refresh your memory.) **

**To see pictures that accompany each chapter, including this one, visit one of the following:**

**Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. **

**For photos and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL **

**/groups/281151482005898/**

**Then request to be added to the group. **


	14. Soul Mate Confessions

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**Props to my fabulous betas: Pickwicksociety, JenKB, Guitargirl, and Mel/mcc101180.**

* * *

**Chapter 14 – Soul Mate Confessions**

As I brushed my teeth, I stared at my haggard reflection while mentally encouraging myself to relax. I'd woken up feeling tired and anxious. After leaving Edward's room last night, it had taken me at least an hour to fall asleep. I'd tossed and turned, thinking about him all alone in his room after having a nightmare and worrying that his PTSD might be a bigger hurdle in our emerging relationship than I had originally thought.

After his nightmare, he'd pushed me away both literally and figuratively. I was anxious about seeing Edward this morning because I didn't know which Edward would greet me–the one I'd left last night or the one I was falling in love with. I didn't know him well enough to anticipate how he would act toward me today.

I left the bathroom and began hurriedly gathering up my belongings. We were meeting the guys in the breakfast room at seven, and we had to get to the station by eight to catch the train to Stratford-upon-Avon.

"You look like shit, Bella. You didn't sleep much, I take it?" Alice cocked an eyebrow at me as I grabbed my iPod from the nightstand, stuffing it in my backpack.

"Thanks ever so much, Al. Yeah, I need a coffee I.V. but not for the reason you're insinuating," I mumbled.

As Alice primped in the mirror and I put on my shoes, I told Alice all of the highlights and lowlights of my evening with Edward.

"Bella, I think he'll be fine today. Most people aren't themselves right after a nightmare. It'll be all right."

"I just have no idea how far to get him to open up. I know he has to, or we'll never be able to have a relationship." I sighed as I threw my coat over my arm.

We gathered our luggage, checked the room one last time for errant items, and headed down the hallway.

"So what did you end up doing last night?" I asked, trying to navigate the stairs with my constant pain-in-the-ass luggage.

"Emmett hung out with me in our room." Alice tried to conceal her small smile, but her eyes gave her away.

"Oh, yeah? Deets, please."

"We just _talked_, Bella," she admonished, rolling her eyes. "We talked non-stop for a couple of hours."

We entered the breakfast room, and I saw that Edward and Emmett were already seated at a table. "Al, those aren't details," I whispered in her ear. "This conversation is to be continued."

She nodded with a sly smile as we dropped our luggage in a corner and sat down with the guys. We all said our good morning pleasantries after which Edward asked for a cup of coffee to be brought to me right away. I smiled, thanking him.

He placed his long, sexy fingers on my leg, rubbing it gently just above my knee as he leaned in close. "You look tired," he whispered. "I'm sorry, Bella."

I put my hand over his. "There's no need to apologize. I loved being with you last night."

He removed his hand from my leg and wrapped it around my shoulders, pulling me against him as he kissed the top of head.

Our traditional English breakfast was delicious, and I sucked down three cups of joe, which helped but not nearly enough. We checked out of the hotel, walked to the nearby station, and began our three hour journey to Stratford.

For the first hour or so, the four of us talked and laughed about everything from Shakespeare's plays to Emmett and Edward's childhood together in Seattle.

"We were on the roof of the high-rise building where Edward and his family live," Emmett began. "It was the summer after our junior year of high school."

"He's trying to embarrass me with this story," Edward interjected, looking at me and Alice. "It's not going to work, Em, but give it your best shot." He folded his arms smugly.

"You're full of shit, Edward. This is ridiculously embarrassing," Emmett shot back at him before turning his attention to me and Alice again. "Okay, so Edward's parents were gone, probably at some high-society event or something–who knows. We invited a couple of our buddies to come over to hang out. Since they don't have a yard, the only place where barbequing is allowed is on the roof, right? So we were partying on the roof, drinking beer and grilling our hamburgers on one of those little Weber grills. We were all pretty well lit, so I'm not sure exactly what happened, but suddenly the fire on the grill was out of control. All of us panicked, looking around for some way to put out the fire."

Edward laughed out loud. "Em, you were hilarious, hopping around the grill like a fucking girl and spewing some very creative cursing."

"What the fuck ever!" Emmett growled playfully. He leaned over, motioning me to come closer and lowered his voice. "Edward is prone to extreme exaggeration, Bella. Don't believe a word he says."

I smiled, glancing at Edward who clearly heard what Emmett said. He smiled back at me, shaking his head as if to indicate that Emmett was full of shit.

"Okay, so on with it, Emmett," Alice coaxed. "How did you get the fire out?"

"Well, Edward here decided that the solution was to whip it out right there and piss all over the fire and our dinner!"

Alice and I looked at each other incredulously before bursting out laughing. "Did you really, Edward?" I asked between my guffaws. And I do mean guffaws–Alice and I were laughing so hard.

"Hey, I'm a problem solver." Edward smirked, shrugging his shoulders. "There was a fire, and we had no way to put it out. I happened to have a significant amount of liquid on my person because I hadn't gone to the bathroom since we started drinking a couple hours earlier." He explained his logic with a straight face but then began laughing with the rest of us.

"Needless to say, we ended up ordering in pizza," Emmett added. "Good times, good times."

When the laughter subsided, I succumbed to my heavy-lidded eyes, resting my head against Edward's shoulder.

The next thing I was cognizant of was the feel of Edward's bicep beneath my hands. My eyes fluttered open, and I found myself in the same position as before, except now my hands gripped Edward's arm like a pillow. I looked up to see him smiling at me.

"Pleasant dreams?" he whispered.

I nodded, pulling away to stretch my arms. "Did you sleep?"

"No, I read a bit and then listened to my iPod."

"Aren't you tired? You look tired."

"I don't sleep on trains. I'll be fine." He stretched his arms over his head and arched his back. "You got about two hours in. Do you feel better?"

"Yes, I feel _so_ much better." I smiled and reached for his hand, lacing his fingers between mine.

"I'm glad. I wouldn't want you to sleepwalk through Shakespeare's town."

After arriving in Stratford-upon-Avon, our first stop was the Aidan Guest House. By the time we checked in, it was lunch time, so we grabbed a quick bite to eat and then headed out to begin sightseeing.

When we arrived at the house believed to be where Shakespeare was born in 1564, I was nearly giddy. It boggled my little brain that this Tudor style house had survived for over four hundred years. It was now a museum and gift shop, and I was in Shakespearean heaven as I browsed through posters, t-shirts, bookmarks, and more–all dedicated to Shakespeare and his writing. I couldn't pass up buying a few items that I thought could be used as teaching aids.

We spent the afternoon visiting places all related to Shakespeare: his grammar school; the childhood home of his mother, Mary Arden; the childhood home of his wife, Anna Hathaway; and the house where Shakespeare lived until his death. I was especially taken with Anne Hathaway's cottage. It was a step back in time with its thatched roof atop a Tudor style design, accented with brick chimney and surrounded by an elaborate English garden.

We eventually made our way to the River Avon where I delighted in the abundance of swans on the water. We walked along the grassy bank until we came to a statue of Shakespeare, surrounded by various characters from his plays. Alice and I ran around excitedly, reading the inscriptions - Prince Hal, Lady Macbeth, Hamlet, and Falstaff. Edward took a picture of me next to Hamlet, one of my favorite characters, while Alice posed with Falstaff, her witty alter-ego.

"Falstaff is a fat, annoying slob, but he's funny as hell," Alice quipped.

We headed back down the river bank in the opposite direction toward the Shakespeare Royal Theatre. Alice and I did a tandem happy dance when we saw an advertisement outside the theatre for _Much Ado About Nothing_, which was playing tonight.

"Oh, my god! That's my favorite Shakespeare comedy," I squealed.

"I'm going!" Alice announced, turning to Emmett and Edward. "Uh, if you guys don't want to go, I understand. Shakespeare isn't for everybody, but this is a once in a lifetime chance. I've never seen a Shakespeare play performed."

Edward laughed. "It's fine, Alice. I'm game if that's what you both want to do."

Emmett reluctantly agreed.

As we walked to the ticket office, Emmett chuckled. "I will say I'm glad it's one of his comedies, at least. The tragedies are just too fucking tragic."

Alice rolled her eyes. "That was profound, you big wimp."

"No, I'm not a wimp–I'm a sensitive soul," he said dramatically, placing his hand over his heart.

"Ah, so you're really just a sweet little lamb dressed up in big, scary wolf costume?" Alice teased.

Emmett furled his brows. "What? You think I'm scary?"

"Yes, but scary in a good way. Like no dude is going to mess with you because you could kick just about anybody's ass, I'm sure."

Emmett grinned, soaking up Alice's ego stroking. "I'm not a fighter. I'm a lover." Emmett winked.

Alice smiled coyly but didn't reply, allowing the flirtatious banter to drop.

After purchasing our tickets for the play, we walked back toward the hotel, taking a different route so we could further explore the village. When Alice and I spotted a bookstore, we dragged the guys inside. Even though we'd been in many bookstores across southern England, I could never pass up a single one. These were not commercialized Barnes and Noble stores–they were usually small, quaint spaces in old buildings, chock full of very old books. Sometimes I'd find expensive, rare original editions. I relished the hunt, exploring the shelves and pulling out a mysterious book, never knowing what treasure I might stumble upon.

Edward and I quietly browsed, always staying within a few steps of each other. I pulled out a very small, olive green book, gasping when I read the title.

"Edward, look," I whispered. I felt like I was in a library, whispering when I really didn't have to. He stepped closer and read the title on the book I held.

"Wordsworth Poems?"

I nodded my head, smiling widely. "I've studied William Wordsworth's poems quite a bit in my classes. This is so cool," I oozed excitedly.

Turning to the first few pages, I found a name and date written in pencil. I couldn't make out the name, but the date was 1905. "I'm definitely buying this."

"I'm not familiar with him. Read something to me?"

"Okay, let's see." I scanned the table of contents. "I have a few favorites. This is just one of them.

"_I wandered lonely as a cloud_

_That floats on high o'er vales and hills,_

_When all at once I saw a crowd,_

_A host, of golden daffodils,_

_Beside the lake, beneath the trees_

_Fluttering and dancing in the breeze."_

I glanced up at Edward who met my gaze with his crooked smile.

"What?" I grinned. "I like daffodils. Wordsworth wrote mostly about nature and god in nature. He lived in the Lake District, a beautiful area north of here. I really wanted to make it up there, but it's just too far to go on this trip. That's where he was when he wrote this poem."

Edward continued staring at me with a teasing smirk.

"What?" I repeated nervously.

He put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me to him. "You're just too adorable when you get all literary," he said, kissing my forehead.

"Adorable?" I huffed. "I don't think I want to be adorable."

Edward chuckled. "Adorable is good, Bella, but you're a unique breed. You're adorable and sexy all at the same time."

"Okay, that's better." I pretend pouted, fluttering my eyelashes. Edward grinned, shaking his head at my silliness as he took my hand, and we continued perusing the book shelves.

Fortunately, when I stumbled upon a 1920s copy of _Pride and Prejudice _a few minutes later, Edward had stepped away to look at another shelf. Right away I knew I wanted to buy it for him, so I dashed over to the cash register, paid for the books, and had them hidden in a bag before he rejoined me. Alice and Emmett were already waiting by the door, ready to leave.

Continuing down the street, we mostly window-shopped but stopped briefly in a couple of stores. My stomach gurgled hungrily when Alice pointed out a storefront that sold made-to-order crepes. It wasn't a walk-in establishment but just a window where you place your order and then watch the crepe maker perform his culinary magic. It was perfect timing for a late afternoon snack. I chose the Nutella crepe while Edward got banana and chocolate. We ambled down the avenue while feasting on the warm, delectable snacks.

"What kind did you guys get?" I mumbled, glancing over at Emmett and Alice walking next to me.

Emmett wiped his mouth with a napkin. "We both got strawberry and it is fucking delicious. If I could only have one food for the rest of my life, this just might be it."

"I thought pizza was your food of choice, Em," Edward asserted.

"Okay, if I could have two foods, it would be pizza and then this crepe for dessert every fucking day."

We turned toward our hotel, having decided to go back to rest and freshen up for the evening. Edward and I naturally lagged behind Emmett and Alice, each of us falling into our own private conversations.

"Now I know your favorite comedy by Shakespeare, but which one is your favorite tragedy?" Edward threaded his fingers through mine.

"When I was younger my answer would have been _Romeo and Juliet_, but now I would have to say _Hamlet_."

"Why the change?" Edward looked down at me inquisitively.

"When I was a teenager, the idea of one true love so grand you'd rather die than be without your soul mate was an intoxicating notion. But life experience has taught me that it's actually an unhealthy view of things. Life is ever-changing, and I've learned you can, in fact, recover from lost love. It's not easy, but it is possible. _Romeo and Juliet_ is truly tragic because they didn't have a healthy love, and it cost them their lives. I guess I don't approve of the message that life is not worth living without your soul mate."

"Do you believe in the concept of soul mates?"

"If we're playing twenty questions again, it's your turn to answer. So you tell me, Edward–do you believe in soul mates?"

Edward chuckled. "Tit for tat, huh?"

_Holy hell, did he just say tit? Yes, Edward you can have my tit, if I can have your tat. _

I nodded my head as I quivered, thinking how grateful I was that he couldn't read my mind as it reeled lustily.

"Okay, fine," he agreed. With one hand still engulfing mine, his free hand tousled his hair making it look even more like he'd just been screwed senseless, which only compounded my yearning for him. "My answer would depend on how you define soul mates. If it means there is only one person in the world you could be happy with, then no, I don't believe that. But I do think that finding somebody you connect with on every level is a rare thing. Not impossible, just rare."

"I would agree with that."

"Really? That was easy. Most women embrace the romantic notion of a one and only true love."

"Yeah, well, I'm not most women," I sassed playfully.

Edward chuckled as he dropped my hand, placing his arm around my shoulder and pulling me to him, squeezing my shoulder gently. "You most certainly are not, Miss Swan."

"I think there are different kinds of love," I elaborated. "That's why I agree when you say that it's rare to connect with another person on _every_ level. You might love someone, having connected emotionally and mentally, but lack passion and chemistry. Alternatively, you might connect with somebody on a more visceral level, but lack the friendship and emotional connection. So I guess I would say true love, as it's called, is when you have all those things: friendship, chemistry, and similar values and goals."

"I couldn't have said it better." Edward smiled.

* * *

"Between their English accents and archaic Shakespearean language, I think I understood only about twenty percent of what was said," Emmett admitted as we exited the Royal Shakespeare Theatre.

"Yeah, it's a good thing you had me as your personal translator." Alice snickered. "What did you think, Edward?"

"I liked it. The lead actors were impressive."

I chimed in, unable to contain my excitement. "I loved it! Seeing my favorite comedy performed and in Shakespeare's hometown no less . . . just . . .oh, my god, it was amazing."

I pulled my pea coat tight around my body, covering the black sweater dress I'd worn for our evening out to dinner and the play. Edward encircled his arm around my waist, and my heart fluttered, loving that he seemed to always want some kind of physical contact with me.

The theatre was on the bank of the Avon, and so we found ourselves strolling along the river's edge, enjoying the beauty of the half-moon's illumination of the swans as they floated lazily across the sparkling surface. I hooked my arm through Edward's, basking in blissful contentment. As usual, we eventually drifted apart as a group, pairing off as we walked.

"Bella, we didn't get a chance to talk much this morning about last night. I just wanted to say again that I'm really sorry you had to see that. I shouldn't have fallen asleep." His tone conveyed embarrassment. "It's why I always get my own room."

"So then this happens a lot? The nightmares?" Since he'd brought it up, I figured I would carefully attempt to get him to open up about the war and how it affected him.

"Almost every night," he mumbled bitterly.

I paused, contemplating my next question. Though he had answered my question, I knew he could shut down just as quickly.

"Are the dreams always about James?" I rubbed his arm reassuringly, looking at him to gauge his reaction to the question he'd refused to answer just last night.

His perfectly angular jaw visibly tensed. "I'd rather not talk about this. I just wanted to say I'm sorry if I was gruff with you or anything last night. I'm not really in my right mind when that happens."

Without planning it, I made a decision in that moment. I had to tell Edward about my divorce, and I needed to do it now. I wanted Edward to reveal all of himself to me, yet I was procrastinating being completely forthcoming with him about myself. I desperately wanted to move forward with him, both emotionally and physically, and I knew this couldn't happen until I was honest with him about my failed marriage.

Fear nearly paralyzed my vocal chords, but the hope of his acceptance propelled me onward. Motioning to a bench overlooking the river, I suggested we sit down.

"Edward, I know that Iraq and the loss of your friend are painful to talk about, but it is a part of you. I don't think I can really know you unless I know that part." I took his hand between both of mine, stroking his long, elegant fingers. "And you can't really know me unless I tell you something that I'd rather not talk about as well."

He regarded me for a moment, curiosity and concern etched in his features. "You can tell me anything, Bella."

I laughed nervously. "Well, yes, I know I can tell you, and you'll listen. It's not really the telling that worries me–it's your reaction to the telling."

"I can't imagine you could say anything that would alter how I see you."

Though his words were slightly reassuring, my self-condemnation made it difficult to fathom that he wouldn't judge me. "When you asked me last night why I chose not to date for a while, I passed on the question because the answer leads to the subject that I'm uncomfortable talking about. But I can't expect you to answer my questions if I don't answer yours, so maybe . . . I don't know . . . I'll show you mine, if you show me yours?" I smiled, waggling my eyebrows suggestively.

Edward smiled slightly but replied somberly, "I don't know about that, Bella. No promises. You really don't have to tell me anything that makes you this uncomfortable."

"But I _do_ have to tell you, Edward." I lifted his hand and placed the back of it against my cold cheek, nuzzling its warmth. "If I want an authentic, trusting relationship with you, I need you to know all of me and . . . _want_ all of me."

Edward turned his hand, his palm now flush against my cheek. His fingers threaded into my hair, gently stroking my head. Leaning down, his cool lips pressed firmly onto mine before he pulled away, taking my hand in his. "I'm listening."

"The reason I didn't date for a while was because I needed time to focus on myself . . . to heal." I paused to gather my courage, mentally willing myself to just say it already. I focused my gaze on our joined hands as I stammered, "I was grieving, um . . . the loss of my marriage." I nervously raised my eyes to his, studying him for signs of shock or disappointment but found none. His eyes radiated patience and kindness, and his caressing of my hand continued as he held my gaze.

My mouth was dry, and I swallowed hard. It had taken all I had to push those words out. Once I did, the floodgates I'd held shut, burst open, and I began rambling. "Divorce is so commonplace now that people often overlook how devastating it can be. It was like a death, really. One day he was there, and the next day he was gone. I haven't seen him since the day he walked out. Actually, I honestly think it would have been less painful had he died because with that there isn't any rejection."

"I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Bella."

I smiled shyly, still unsure what he thought of me now.

"Was this the three year relationship you mentioned last night?" he asked.

I nodded.

"How long has it been?"

"It's been almost two years since we divorced."

"Not to disregard your concern about this, but I'm surprised that's all it is. Hell, I was bracing myself for something like you working as a stripper to get through college or having three children at home from different daddies."

"Edward!" I gasped, my eyes wide with shock.

Laughing, he explained further. "I'm sorry, Bella, but I honestly don't understand why you thought this was something so dreadful that I might change my mind about you."

"I don't know." I shrugged. "I probably projected my own judgments onto you, expecting you to see it the way I used to."

"And how do you see your marriage and divorce?"

"It's difficult to explain." I paused in contemplation. "I gave everything to him, to Jacob. He knew all of me–the good and the ugly. When you are that vulnerable, showing your whole self, and then you're rejected, it cuts to the core. I don't think it's the same when you're rejected by someone you've only been dating, with whom you haven't completely shown all your sides." I paused, looking for the right words. "The man, who had promised to share his life with me and to always love me, in effect, said he'd be happier if I wasn't in his life. It was devastating.

"With time and healing, I've grown from the experience and moved past it. So it's not so much that I think I'm unworthy, but I feared that you might think so. I worried you might think something must be wrong with me since my own husband threw me away. I often fear how other people will view me and my divorce without really knowing me."

"If you really thought I might react that way, then we definitely need to get to know each other better. That's not who I am at all, Bella. I don't believe there are any mistakes, only life experiences. Your marriage and your divorce were both experiences that have contributed to the person you are today."

I hadn't realized how tightly wound I'd been until all the worry bottled within me burst out through my tear ducts, emotions quietly trickling down my cheeks. I had mentally prepared myself for rejection and judgment, and now I was overwhelmed with relief as the weight of worry lifted.

"Oh, Bella, baby." Edward quickly enveloped me in his arms. He pressed my head against his chest, resting his chin on my head as his hands stroked my hair and dried my tears.

"Sorry," I whispered. "I'm just so relieved." I wrapped my arms around his waist, snuggling against his chest and relishing in his warmth and acceptance.

We sat quietly for several minutes as Edward's fingers stroked my hair and his lips pressed to my forehead every so often. My thoughts vacillated between gratitude that my divorce didn't matter to Edward and concern that he still wasn't going to talk to me about his nightmares. I had hoped that by showing him trust by sharing with him a painful part of my past, he would find the inclination to do the same. As I was considering whether it would be wise to bring it up, his voice cut through the stillness.

"Yes, my nightmares are almost always about James." His voice was low with a slight tremor in the tone. He held me tightly against his chest, his chin still resting on my head. I heard him swallow tightly, followed by a clearing of his throat. "Sometimes there are fragments of other things, other memories, but mostly I relive that day."

I literally bit down on my tongue to still it from asking all the questions running through my mind. _Have you ever talked to a therapist about your nightmares? Have you been diagnosed with PTSD? What was James like? How long did you know him?_ I assumed that questions might make him feel cornered, so I sat quietly, hoping he would continue.

"They're not like regular nightmares where once you wake up the emotions disappear with the dream." Edward's hand gripped my shoulder tightly, and I sensed his entire body tensing. "It takes me awhile after I wake up to even realize that I'm in bed and not on the battlefield. The emotions are as intense as if I was really there. Um, that's why I was probably an ass to you when I woke up. I'm sorry."

"You weren't an ass," I mumbled. "You just weren't yourself which is completely understandable after a dream like that. There's no need to apologize for something that's out of your control."

"I just don't understand why it was James and not me. I mean, why did I come home when so many others didn't?" He took a deep breath, exhaling breathily as if attempting to calm himself. My fingers found their way to his jaw, dancing along its edge and then rubbing his cheek with my thumb. I wanted to sit up so I could see him, but I sensed he was more comfortable without my eyes on him as he navigated this painful subject.

"James had a wife, for fuck's sake. If anything was right in this world, he would have come home to her . . . instead, I came back." I winced at the way he hatefully spit those last words, as if his coming home alive was a travesty.

No longer able to resist the pull to see his handsome face, I pulled away from his chest just enough that I could look up at him. "Edward, have you ever talked to a therapist about your nightmares and about James? I mean, the Army provides counseling, right?"

"No. Well, yes, just once. After you're involved in a battle like that, you're required to speak to somebody about it. It's routine."

Most likely he hadn't actually been diagnosed with PTSD if he'd only spoken to a therapist once shortly after the traumatic event. Emmett must have labeled Edward with PTSD just based on the symptoms he'd personally observed.

"Edward, um . . . well, I think maybe it would be helpful to talk to somebody about everything."

He sat forward, removing his arm from my shoulder. Hunched over, he picked at his fingernail. "Why? Nobody can make the dreams go away. Nobody has a fucking magic wand for that shit."

"No, no quick fixes, I'm sure, but I think there are therapies that can at least help with issues like this." I was reticent to use the term PTSD as it wasn't my place to diagnose him, and I feared a label of any kind would spook him.

"I don't like to talk about it, and that's all therapists do–they make you fucking talk."

"I know. It would be hard, but I already know you're brave and strong–you signed up for war voluntarily. Talking to a therapist would be small potatoes compared to that, right?"

I was met with silence. Edward's unblinking stare rested on the rhythmic river current.

I leaned forward on the bench, matching his position with my elbows resting on my knees. We sat quietly as I tried to determine how far to push him. Reaching for his hand, I took it into mine. "Will you at least think about it?" I gently pleaded.

Finally, his eyes darted from the river to me. "As if I could ever say no to you," he divulged, his tone serious. He leaned over, kissing me softly. "I'll think about it."

I smiled from the inside out as joy, relief, gratitude, and desire cohabitated inside my heart. Not only had Edward accepted my past, he'd finally allowed me inside his head just a little, offering up a glimpse of his ongoing demons. I believed my connection with Edward was the beginning of something rare and precious; I could feel it in my cells.

Still grinning like a silly school girl with a crush, I hungrily wrapped my hands behind Edward's head, pulling him against me and deepening our kiss. His tongue greeted me eagerly, sliding between my lips and then rolling, wet and warm, in tandem with mine. _Sweet Jesus, his mouth! _For freak's sake, you'd think I'd never kissed him before, but the way he moved his lips and tongue sparked tingles that travelled from my lips straight down to my girly parts.

This man was highly skilled in the art of kissing. The concept of the French kiss is deceivingly simple. I'd had the misfortune of discovering that proper execution is not a skill that all possess. Some men think that French kissing means nothing more than jamming their tongue into your mouth. The more turned on they get, the more rigid their tongue, and the more they try to give you a tonsillectomy with it.

Edward's tongue was always relaxed and pliable as he explored my mouth, even when doing so in a lusty frenzy. His full lips sucked gently on my tongue, and I involuntarily whimpered.

"Edward," I mumbled against his lips. "You came back"–my words were cut short as he pulled my bottom lip into his mouth, licking and nibbling–"from the war . . ." I trailed off as his mouth melded to mine. Taking a breath, I mumbled into his mouth, ". . . for me."

He stopped kissing but kept me in his arms as he looked at me with an expression I'd never seen on his face before. It wasn't his sexy, sly smirk but a gentle, joyful smile that illuminated his entire face. We stared at each other, just smiling, until his countenance changed, his wide eyes turning intense and smoldering.

His mouth covered mine with a frenetic need, and I met his motions with my own fevered actions–licking, sucking, touching, and rubbing hands everywhere. It dawned on me that we were engaged in some impressive PDA, so I removed my lips from his, peppering his jaw with quick pecks all the way up to his ear. I nibbled his earlobe, panting into it. "Edward, I'm ready."

He gently pulled me off of him, gripping my shoulders. "Are you _sure_?"

I nodded slowly as if to accentuate each nod. "I've never been more sure of anything. I want you . . . _now_."

Edward looked around the area, his eyes resting on Emmett and Alice who were sitting on a bench further down the river. "Don't move," he ordered huskily, which, frankly, turned me the fuck on even more.

I watched as he jogged over to Emmett and Alice, spoke to them briefly and then returned, holding out his hand to me. "Shall we, Miss Swan?" he asked, his eyes still focused and intent.

I slipped my hand into his, nearly leaping off the bench. He walked briskly through the village streets toward our hotel, leading me by the hand. We were silent as we walked. There were no words needed–we were communicating on a primal level as if our auras were intertwined, conversing silently, pulling us together as one.

After a couple of blocks, my damn high heels got the best of me, and my pace began to slow. Without warning, Edward scooped me up and flipped me over his shoulder.

"Edward!" I squeaked, gasping between giggles. With my ass in the air, my head hung down, giving me a perfect view of _his_ ass. My dangling hand found its way to his flawlessly sculpted cheeks, and I rubbed my entire palm over one of them, gently squeezing. I groaned, feeling his muscles tensing and releasing under my hand with every step he took.

He returned my groping with a quick slap to my ass, followed by a soothing rub. Suddenly, Edward left the main street, turning into a dark and narrow alley. _What the hell? _

Before I could ask, he lowered me gently to me feet and then–he nearly sucked my face off. That sounds bad, but believe me, it was good–oh, so, fucking good. My hands scratched and tugged at his hair, my mouth suctioned to his as we panted and groaned with each breath we took. His hands left my hair, rapidly moving down my torso until they rested on my ass.

"Ungf," I groaned some nonsensical sound. Good god, his hands were so massive that my ass was completely covered by his warm palms. He squeezed just before moving his hands over my thighs and lifting me up.

As I wrapped my legs around his waist, he stepped forward, pressing my back against the building. My dress rode up, exposing my black satin g-string, but my panties were quickly covered by Edward's hard-on. As he ground his hardness against my softness, I whimpered while Edward growled.

"Fuuuck." Flicking his tongue across my lips, he grunted, "You are killing me, Bella. It is taking all my self-control to not take you right here."

_Holyfuckinghell. Edward is aggressive. Me likey. _

He lowered me to the ground, and I bent over to remove my heels. Getting to the hotel as fast as possible was the goal, and I could walk faster if I was barefooted. Edward would just have to deal with my dirty feet–somehow, I didn't think he'd mind.

Edward had pitched an impressive tent in his slacks; I couldn't imagine walking with that would be comfortable. As I eyed his arousal, he met my smirk with a roll of his eyes. Fortunately, there weren't many tourists out at this time of night, so maybe we could get to our room without too many people noticing his impressive boner.

Holding hands, we returned to the main street, walking as fast as humanly possible. As we ran up the stairs of the hotel, I figured it had taken maybe ten minutes to get there, but it had felt like freaking forever and a day. Not only had I gone without sex for close to a year, but I had never in my life been as sexually attracted to any man as much as I was to Edward. I may have mentioned that a few times.

Normally, I wouldn't have sex with a man after knowing him only a couple of weeks. In ordinary, everyday life, we would have gone out on only a couple of dates in that amount of time. However, in our cocoon of travelling, the time we'd spent together was concentrated, free from distractions of day-to-day living. That fact, combined with the indefinable connection between us, I felt like I'd known Edward for much longer.

As soon as he unlocked the door, he flung it open and pulled me inside by my hand. Before I heard the click of the door, I launched myself at him, lacing my hands in his soft hair and peppering his neck with open-mouthed kisses. I moaned at the taste and feel of him, his skin soft and slightly salty from our aerobic walk. In one quick motion, Edward lifted my dress up and over my head.

_Thank fuck for dresses without zippers or hooks._

He stopped briefly, his eyes roving over the length of my body. One side of his mouth twitched, transforming into a devilish, crooked smile. His fingers kneaded my hips as he dipped his face down to my cleavage. His nose and breath tickled the tender flesh while his tongue tasted and gently sucked. My breathing was erratic, and my fingers trembled as I struggled to unbutton his shirt. When I finally tossed it to the floor, my hands roamed wildly across his washboard abdomen and then up to his defined pecs. The dips of the muscled sections rippled under my fingers and increasing desire churned inside me. Still nuzzling my breasts, Edward unhooked my bra, and I lowered my arms, allowing it to fall.

Edward's eyes darted from my face to my breasts. "Fucking beautiful," he groaned. One long, sexy finger reached out, barely touching the side of my breast like a fucking feather, trailing the curvature to my nipple where the pad of his finger circled it ever so softly. "So perfect."

"Edward, please," I panted, tortured by the wet ache between my legs.

Having mercy on me, his hand engulfed my breast, his fingers squeezing and massaging my flesh. He bent down to my other breast, his tongue taking one long lick across my nipple, eliciting a squeal from me. And then my sensitive bud was buried in his hot, silky mouth; his tongue swirled around my aroused nipple, gently sucking and licking it like a strawberry ice cream cone. I panted loudly, feeling nearly light-headed–I needed him so badly.

As amazing as his mouth felt, I didn't need or want any more foreplay. I had fucking Niagara Falls flowing out of my g-string already, so I moved my hands down his chest, along the trail of hair which pointed the way I wanted to go. I cupped my hand over his dick, which was tenting his pants in an attempt to get free. I wanted that monstrosity to be free as well, so as Edward continued to worship my breasts, I unbuttoned his pants. It was a bit awkward since Edward was hunched over devouring my boobs, but I managed to get the zipper down, yanking on them until they fell to his ankles.

Edward released my nipple and stood up straight, which I can't begin to say how much I appreciated because I was dying to finally see "_it_." As I shamelessly ogled his manhood, he used one foot to pull his shoe off the other while staring at me with a scorching intensity. He was without doubt larger than the average male, and "it" was most definitely bigger than any dick that had ever been inside of me. I was simultaneously gleeful and a teensy-weensy bit scared at the thought of something so enormous trying to get inside my tiny cooter.

I reached out, my fingers encircling his silken, rigid goodness before my grip moved up and back down a few times. Edward's head dropped to my neck, sucking and biting as he groaned. "Oh, fucking shit . . . your hand feels fucking amazing."

He kissed his way up my neck to my chin and then our mouths connected, tongues swirling hungrily, tasting and panting. I reluctantly let go of his dick long enough to slide my panties down. Still kissing me madly, his hands gripped my thighs. and he hoisted me up. I clutched his shoulders and wrapped myself around him, our mouths never parting. My back hit the wall as he pressed his hard length against my glistening folds. I licked and sucked along his jaw as he thrust against me, his erection caressing my clit. I gasped, sucking harder on his jaw as the muscles in my legs tensed, my heels digging into his hard-as-marble ass.

"Oh, fuck!" he hissed. "Baby," he mumbled in between kisses, "let me go grab a condom."

"No, no, no," I blurted. "I mean, I'm on the pill. I promise I'm clean. Um, when was the last time you were tested?"

His breathing still labored, he swiveled his hips against my center. "Just two months ago," he said. "I'm clean."

"Swear to all that is holy . . ." I moaned as he swirled his tongue in my ear, ". . . oh, ung, that you haven't had unprotected sex since then."

He lifted his head and looked in my eyes. "I swear it, Bella."

"Oh, thank fuck." I sighed breathily, burying my face in his neck.

Still pinned against the wall, I stroked his arms, reveling in his flexed muscles as they held my weight. Edward pulled back slightly, holding me with one arm as his other hand reached between us. His thumb covered my clit, rubbing it rhythmically as he rested his forehead against mine. As fantastic as it felt, if I got any wetter his dick would slide right out of me. My pussy was turning into a Slip-N-Slide and would soon be too wet to feel any friction whatsoever. "Baby, that's fantastic, but I just want you. Please, Edward–I need you inside me now!"

He made a sound that I'd never heard before, a kind of guttural growl that made me feel more desired than I ever had. His hands cradled my thighs as he positioned himself, and I felt the head of his dick tease my opening. He pressed into me with a deliberate slowness, gradually filling me up inch by excruciatingly stimulating inch. "Ohh, Ed . . . ward," I groaned.

He gave me a wicked grin, and I pulled his face to mine, kissing his lips softly. He kissed me back tenderly, his tongue sliding over my lip, flicking into my mouth teasingly while his hips remained stationary. I desperately wanted to thrust against him, but his cock had me impaled against the wall. I couldn't move, and just when I was about to beg for friction, he pulled out so slowly and then slammed himself into me.

"Oh, god, you feel so fucking good," I screamed. He silenced my wailing with his mouth, kissing me deeply as he plunged into me again. I swear to god, I thought I was going to pass out from the overwhelming visceral stimulation.

"Your pussy is perfection, baby," Edward groaned into my mouth, his teeth scraping across my lips. "Fuck. You're so warm and tight."

With every thrust of his hips, his pace quickened, driving deeper. My fingers tangled frantically in his hair, and I tightened my legs around his waist, pulling my knees higher up on his torso, toward his shoulders. As I did, his amazing dick hit my sweet spot, sending a spark of intense pleasure radiating outward. I moaned loudly, "Oh, fuck, yesss . . . right there!"

Edward grunted wildly as he moved more forcefully, and after two more thrusts, I exploded, coating his dick with my pleasure. "Holy fuck . . . oh, god, yes, yes."

"Fuck, Bella - you came on my cock." His lips bit at my neck as I panted, still blissfully out of my mind and high on orgasmic euphoria. "That is so fucking hot, baby."

He stepped away from the wall, holding me tightly against him as he was still inside of me. It seemed that the gods of virility and stamina had been generous to Edward because I was the only one who orgasmed–Edward was still hard inside of me.

He walked slowly to the bed, sitting down with me still impaled on him. He scooted to the center of the bed and then laid back. Aggressive Edward appeared to be turning control over to me, which I eagerly accepted.

I leaned over him and took his face in my hands, stroking his cheeks firmly. My fingers moved to his head, massaging his scalp as I caressed every inch of his face with my lips–his forehead, then each eyelid, both cheeks, the tip of his nose, his jaw line on each side, and finally his chin. As my mouth moved up to his lips, I lifted my pelvis, slowly sinking back down on his length. With the movement, Edward gasped into my open mouth and gripped my hips firmly, guiding them upward and then back down again.

Our frenzied fuck against the wall had slowed to intoxicating, methodic movements. With my forearms resting on each side of his head, my fingers twisted in his hair, and my tongue tangled with his as I slowly lifted my hips, rotating them as I slid back down his hot, pulsating dick. As I swiveled my hips, my clit ground against his pelvic bone, and I couldn't contain my verbal moanings each time. "You feel so damn good," I purred breathlessly.

Once Edward realized his dick was in capable hands, or rather a capable cooter, his fingers released their somewhat controlling grip on my ass. They moved to my breasts, teasing my nipples, gently tugging and rolling them between his thumb and fingers.

As the coil of pressure tightened in my center, my rolling thrusts quickened but remained steady and deliberate, slowly building toward release. I broke our kiss to take a breath and Edward grunted into my neck, "Oh, yes, fuck me, Bella."

He lifted his head off the bed, his mouth latching onto my breast and his hands caressing my back as I rocked my hips against him. He took in more than a mouthful at first, biting down slightly and then releasing all except my nipple, his tongue flicking it teasingly.

I was dangling at the precipice of pleasure, and with one more forceful downward thrust, my sweet spot sang hallelujah. As my feminine muscles contracted around Edward's cock, every nerve in my body was incited and smoldering. "Ohh, oh, ahhh, fuck yes," I wailed, lost in rapture and incapable of articulation.

Edward's arms tensed, pulling my breasts against his chest and my lips to his, groaning into my mouth as he climaxed. "Oh, fuck, Bell-laa!"

I lapped at his taut mouth, sucking and biting his lips and tongue. I thrust down on him once more, swiveling my hips as I crushed my clit against him. Without warning, I catapulted into a pool of pleasure as I came again. I cried out, moaning and writhing against his neck, his hands rubbing all over my body from my ass up to my hair.

We panted loudly as I lay on him, my chest flush with his. As much as I never wanted his magnificent dick to leave me, my leg muscles screamed in pain, and I feared they might atrophy if I didn't move.

As I rolled off of him onto my side, Edward turned to face me. With one arm tucked under his head, he pulled me against him, wrapping his legs around mine. He stroked my cheek, kissing me sweetly.

After a few gentle kisses, we stared at each other, silently basking in the sexual afterglow. His curled fingers brushed along my face, and my hand rubbed his chest.

_Holy fucking hell! That right there was the best sex I've ever had in my life, _I mused inwardly.

As if Edward had just read my mind, he mumbled incredulously, "What _was_ that?"

I giggled, elated that he felt the same. "I have no idea, but I do know I'm going to want some more . . . and soon."

Edward chuckled. "As if I could ever say no to you."

* * *

**A/N: I want to give credit to the fabulous AMC for the 'pissing on the grill' story which is based on something that happened with her brother. **

**Just in case you've forgotten, James (who Edward was dreaming about) is Edward's friend and fellow soldier who died in the battle for which Edward was awarded a medal. Edward risked his life to save James, but he still died from his wounds. (Refer to Chapter 10 if you want to refresh your memory.) **

**To see pictures that accompany each chapter, including this one, visit one of the following:**

**Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. **

**For photos and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL- **

**/groups/281151482005898/**

**Then request to be added to the group. **


	15. Revved Up Like A Douche

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: I got behind on my writing schedule due to RL 'stuff', giving my betas a meager 24 hours to edit this chapter. Pickwicksociety ROCKS for coming to my rescue and editing so quickly, enabling me to get this chapter to you on schedule. You're a Beta Queen, Pickwicksociety!** **And to the Queen of Grammar, Mel/mcc101180 from ProjectTeamBeta, for putting the final beta stamp on this chapter.**

* * *

**Chapter 15 – Revved Up Like A Douche**

My eyelids fluttered as consciousness brought to my awareness the warm and muscular chest that was my pillow. I smiled, realizing I'd slept in Edward's arms all night after making love for hours. Needing to stretch my sexed up body, I carefully pulled away from the warmth of him, wincing at the swollen ache between my legs. After not having sex for nearly a year, my girly parts were apparently rebelling at the intrusion. Having sex multiple times with a well-endowed man, after such a long sexual hiatus, was probably not very smart considering I'd be walking around all day, but a bit of discomfort was a small price to pay for hours of bliss with Edward.

After the initial fuck frenzy against the wall, which was a first for me, the pace had slowed down, the tone turning gentle and loving as I rode him on the bed. I had no idea what Edward's sexual history was, but he genuinely seemed to be just as blown away as I was by what transpired between us.

Afterward, we had talked, laughed, and cuddled for a while until we couldn't keep our hands off of each other, and so began round two. Never before had I felt so sexually desired and simultaneously adored and worshipped as I did with Edward.

He lay on his back with one arm splayed across the pillow, the curved angle of his arm causing his bicep muscles to flex. The sheet lay loosely at his hips, revealing his rippling abdomen. The defined muscle structure created a "V" shaped arrow across his hips, seemingly pointing down to one of Edward's best features.

I felt my cheeks flush as it occurred to me that I was ogling Edward's body like a perv while he slept and without his knowledge, but I couldn't help myself. Had God been kind enough to allow me to custom-order my idea of the perfect male specimen, Edward would have been the result. Everything about him turned me on–from his height and build to his masculine jaw line and piercing eyes, right down to something usually as unnoticeable as his damn hands. Even more bewildering was that he seemed custom-made for me on the inside as well. His intelligence, bravery, humility, sense of humor, confidence without arrogance, and his usually even-keeled temperament were all extremely attractive characteristics. Truly, he was my Adonis incarnate, inside and out.

My eyes traveled up his torso to his face, my sense of awe escaping me in an involuntarily sigh. He was simply beautiful. Edward would probably cringe at that description–men aren't supposed to be beautiful. But hot, attractive, and even handsome seemed inadequate to describe the man sleeping next to me. A sliver of sunlight found its way through a crack in the drapery and rested its glow on one side of his face. A thin line of sunlight ran through his hair, illuminating his closed eyelid, down his cheek to his angular jaw line.

I grinned as the words of my favorite medieval poet, John Donne, echoed in my thoughts. The poem was written to the sun who dared to shine through the window, ending a night of intimacy. I'd always been enamored by the poem even though I'd never personally related to it. I whispered the part of it I'd memorized while watching the dancing rays of the sun shimmer like diamonds across Edward's face, giving him an almost ethereal visage.

_Busy old fool, unruly Sun,  
Why dost thou thus,  
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?_

_Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?  
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide  
Late school-boys and sour prentices._

_Thy beams so reverend, and strong  
Why shouldst thou think?  
I could eclipse and cloud them with a wink,  
But that I would not lose her {his} sight so long._

I smiled because for the first time I truly understood Donne's plea to the sun, wanting time to cease so the euphoric experience with his lover could continue.

I took in every exquisite feature of Edward's face from his long eyelashes down to his sharp jaw covered in whiskers. His stubble was light brown except for a blond patch just below his bottom lip. Simply looking at his full, red, pouty lips made my body tingle with desire. I leaned in closer, studying his perfection, focusing in on the little hollow beneath his lower lip. I reached out with my pointer finger and gently stroked the space created by the curvature of his plump lip. Instead of the touch satisfying me, it only increased my need.

Knowing it would probably wake him up but honestly not caring, I slowly rose up on my knees, placing my hands on each side of his shoulders and hovered over his body. Leaning down, I pressed my lips into that sweet spot. I pulled back just a bit and looked at him, but he hadn't moved an inch. I went back for more, sticking out my tongue and licking horizontally across the same spot. Edward moved his arm down, away from his head. I stifled a giggle as I kissed my favorite divot again, this time parting my lips and taking in his bottom lip, caressing it with my tongue and gently sucking it. Suddenly, his mouth responded with vigor, almost startling me as his lips began moving with mine.

"Bella," he groaned against my mouth. He wrapped his arms around me, pulling me down so my naked breasts were flush against his chest and kissed me hard. As we broke apart in need of air, Edward panted, "Fuck." He chuckled, his eyes twinkling, while cradling my face in his hands. "I could get used to waking up to that every morning."

My heart swelled, and I smiled at him, shifting my body to lie on my side along the length of his breathtaking form, my free hand tousling his hair and massaging his head. "I'm really glad to hear that since I thought the same thing when I woke up to this." I removed my hand from his hair and gestured to his body.

"Yeah?" He grinned crookedly.

I nodded. "Yeah. In fact, I've been surveying your entire body while you were sleeping. I had to make sure you were real."

"And how long has this inspection been going on?"

"I have no idea. I've been a bit distracted with your perfection, so much so that I lost all sense of time," I said dramatically.

He smiled, shaking his head sheepishly, and then kissed me quickly. "Speaking of time, what time is it anyway?" he muttered, leaning over my shoulder to look at the clock on the nightstand.

He jumped back, his eyes wide. "Fuck! Bella, we have to be ready to go in twenty minutes."

"What?" I gasped. I twisted around, looking over my shoulder, to see the exact time. "Shit!" I flew out of bed, adrenaline surging, and began scampering around the room looking for my dress and panties.

"I'm sorry, Edward. I didn't even look at the clock when I woke up."

I found my dress by the door and quickly pulled it over my head. "Where the frak are my underwear, Edward?" I screeched, my eyes darting around the room.

Edward began laughing like a hyena, louder than I'd ever heard him before.

I turned and glared at him. "It's not friggin' funny, Edward! You can get ready in five minutes. It's not so easy for me."

"I'm sorry." He practically snorted as he laughed, still sitting in the middle of the bed. "You shot out of bed so fucking fast, and you just look so cute all freaked out, running around in a panic."

I rolled my eyes but couldn't suppress a little smile. I couldn't _not_ smile, seeing him all happy and laughing and his eyes sparkling.

"Bella Baby, we'll find your sexy panties later," he said, clearly trying not to laugh anymore. "Just go get ready, okay?"

Spotting my shoes by the bed, I hurriedly scooped them up. Leaning over the bed, I planted a juicy, hard kiss on Edward's lips. "I'll see you in a bit, handsome."

"Fifteen minutes now to be exact," he clarified.

"Yeah, yeah, fifteen minutes. I promise."

I hurried to the door and pulled it open. Glancing back at Edward just before pulling it closed, I was stunned into near paralysis by what I saw. He had just gotten out of bed and was walking toward the bathroom in all his naked glory. My gaze ran from his bronze, disheveled sex hair, down his sculptured torso, to his semi-erect cock.

_Holy Mother of Bella's Ultimate Fantasy Man, how is it possible? How is __**he**__ even possible?_

I was somewhat surprised when I felt moisture pooling between my legs. Obviously, my cooter didn't care that she was swollen and overworked, clearly wanting more of _that_ right there. Thankfully, Edward was once again oblivious to my lusty staring. My trance was broken when he stepped into the bathroom, out of my line of sight. I shook my head in utter disbelief at my good fortune and pulled the door closed.

I ran to my room three doors down and knocked, having forgotten to bring my room keycard with me last night. The door swung open almost immediately.

"What the fuck, Bella?" Alice chided. "I was just about to come looking for you."

I ran past her, muttering my apologies, and dropped my shoes on the floor. I pulled my dress off as I headed to the bathroom.

Thirteen minutes later, I stood at the door dressed in my faded skinny jeans, black chucks, and a red, long-sleeved Henley. I was able to get away with not washing my hair, cutting about thirty minutes off my usual morning routine.

Alice zipped up her luggage while I yammered to her about not having time to put on makeup, and that I figured I'd throw on some mascara and blush during the train ride to Warwick.

Alice smirked. "I think you could skip the makeup all together today, Bella."

Puzzled, I pursed my lips and asked, "Uh, why is that?"

"Because you have that freshly fucked glow about you. No need for blush." She giggled.

I smiled wickedly, not at all embarrassed. "Oh, Alice, you have no idea!"

"You're right–I really don't. I'm not gonna lie . . . I'm insanely jealous." She rolled her luggage to the door, reaching for the door handle. Before she opened it, she looked at me. "But I'm also very happy for you."

"Thanks, Al."

* * *

The train ride from Stratford over to Warwick was only about thirty minutes. I barely had time to put on mascara and eat the pastry that Edward had picked up at the hotel before we arrived. We dropped our luggage off at The Tilted Wig where we planned to stay tonight and then caught a taxi to Warwick Castle.

Built by William the Conqueror in 1068, the castle was unlike any other I'd seen. Every room throughout the massive structure displayed wax figures, which were so lifelike you'd swear they were real people. Even when standing right next to one, I could barely tell that it wasn't a living human being. The wax figures brought the castle to life, creating a vibrant picture of medieval living.

We visited the great hall and state rooms where we saw a man seated at a piano and a woman standing next to it dressed in a white formal gown, her mouth open as if singing. In another building, apparently the servant's quarters, there was a woman bent over a bucket of water, wringing out the laundry. Everywhere we looked, it was as if we were peeking in on a busy household. We saw some really cool artifacts like the seal, saddle, and handkerchief of Queen Elizabeth I and also plenty of medieval armor that Edward found particularly fascinating.

No self-respecting medieval castle would be complete without a dungeon full of creepy torture devices. Walking single-file down a narrow, winding staircase into the dungeon, Alice and I giggled as the guys poked us, trying–but failing–to scare us.

We entered the musky, stone-walled room and were immediately drawn to a torture device of some kind that hung from the ceiling. It looked sort of like a bird cage in the shape of a person, made of formed metal ribbons.

"Holy shit. I wonder how they used that thing," I wondered aloud.

"It's called a gibbet," Edward explained. "After a criminal was executed, they put the body in there and it was hung for public display as a deterrent."

Alice asked incredulously, "How in the fuck do you know such a thing, Edward?"

Everyone laughed, including Edward. "Um, because I'm a geek?" He shrugged. "I don't know–I read a lot."

"Nothing like a little light reading about hanging dead people in freaky contraptions," Emmett interjected.

Alice belly-laughed as she high-fived Emmett.

I wrapped my arms around Edward's waist, pushing up onto my tiptoes. He leaned his head down, allowing me to whisper in his ear. "If you're a geek, you're the sexiest geek I've ever seen." He rewarded me with a kiss and a smirk.

"Actually, I think this was their sex room," Emmett announced matter-of-factly.

Alice's eyes grew wide as she giggled. "I think you're right, Em. These look like some ancient BDSM contraptions."

Emmett grinned at her, clearly pleased she was willing to engage in some wordplay with him. "Uh-huh. Look up there." He pointed to a wall with various torture instruments displayed. "Whips!" He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Alice didn't miss a beat. "You seem happy to see those whips, Em. Do you like to be spanked or something?"

"Well, that depends on who's doing the spanking, doesn't it?" He winked, and then I swear to all that is holy, he eye fucked her.

I felt a tad uncomfortable, as though Edward and I were intruding on a personal moment. I glanced up at Edward, wondering if he felt as awkward as I did. He looked at me with raised eyebrows, his eyes wide, seemingly every bit as surprised at their verbal foreplay.

Alice finally recovered from Emmett's retort and eye fuckery, eventually finding her voice. "Well, at least I know what to get you for Christmas now."

I burst into nervous laughter, everybody quickly joining in and snickering as we headed to the stairs leading to the top of the tower. This was the third tower we'd climbed at Warwick Castle, not wanting to miss out on the views of the picturesque English countryside.

The air was chilly, the sky overcast, and the wind whipped around us on the exposed tower. As I gazed at the panoramic landscape, Edward stepped behind me, wrapping his arms around me in a tight embrace. His body was flush against my backside, his body heat merging with mine, warming me almost instantly. I leaned my head back onto his shoulder and looked up, silently asking for a kiss. He read my mind, immediately pressing his lips to mine, slow and sensual, with just a tease of his tongue against my lips. We sighed in contentment before returning to silently admiring the view, which could be seen for miles around.

I turned my head, looking for Alice and Emmett. They were on the other side of the tower and appeared to be deep in conversation.

"So what did you make of that little exchange between those two downstairs?" Edward asked when he saw me looking at them. "Do you think they've hooked up?"

I turned around to face him, drawing him to me with my arms around his waist. "Have they hooked up? Definitely not. Do they both want to? Hell, yes!" I said. "If I had any doubt about that before, their little BDSM banter removed all question. Haven't you and Emmett talked about it?"

"Not recently. I haven't really been around him much, not just the two of us anyway. I mean, I know he wishes Alice didn't have a boyfriend, but I don't know much more than that." He paused. "So . . . is Alice happy with her boyfriend? Because she's definitely been flirting with Em."

"Yeah, I know. I don't want to break Alice's confidence, but I will say that she's not flirting on a whim, just for fun. She feels something, too, but she's conflicted. However, she's a good person. She's not going to cheat on her boyfriend."

Edward stepped back, scratching his head, his eyes narrowing in thought. "That's good. I mean, I wouldn't want her to, but I just worry Emmett is going to get his hopes up that something will come of this."

"I know, and I'm feeling more and more guilty about putting her in this situation. We're basically forcing them to spend all this time alone, and I know she's fighting temptation. They both are."

Edward pressed his lips to my forehead while rubbing my back. "I knew he liked her, but I had no idea she felt the same. Well, they only have to endure temptation for two more days." He expelled a gust of air before drawing his hands to my face, tilting my head up until I looked in his eyes. "Our time here together is almost over," he nearly whispered, sadness clearly etched in his features.

"Please don't remind me," I mumbled, holding his gaze. "I don't want to think about that until I have to, okay?"

I wasn't in denial about the facts, but I never saw any point in worrying over something until it was necessary. It's simply a waste of energy, and dwelling on it would rob me of my current bliss. Yet, tucked away in the back of my consciousness was the knowledge that in two days I would have to say goodbye to Edward. Alice and I would fly back to Phoenix while Edward and Emmett continued traveling for another week. I was truly amazed at how quickly I'd become accustomed to his company, to his voice, and to his touch. Not knowing when I would see or even talk to Edward again was gut wrenching.

Tucking a lock of windblown hair behind my ear, he smiled sadly. "Okay, baby." He kissed my forehead again, then the tip of my nose, and finally, my lips. "How about we go over there and interrupt the temptation?"

"Yep, let's go."

* * *

I flipped the hair dryer off and ran my brush through my hair one final time. I'd already reapplied my makeup, and now I just needed to get dressed.

After returning from Warwick Castle in the late afternoon, Alice and I had taken a short nap before getting ready for dinner. I definitely planned on spending the night with Edward, so I figured I'd shower again and wash my hair this time, wanting to be squeaky clean and fresh for him.

"The mirror is all yours," I called out as I came out of the bathroom. I headed for my suitcase, but when Alice didn't answer, I turned toward her.

She was sitting on the bed, leaning against the headboard, her legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles. My heart lurched when I saw her empty gaze focused on the wall. Her eyes glistened, her cheeks were moist, and a tear escaped the corner of one eye.

"Al?" I went to her right away and sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing her forearm. "What's wrong?"

She sniffled, wiping the wetness from her face. "I've never been so fucking confused in my entire life, Bella," she mumbled, her voice cracking as she tried to stifle the need to cry.

"Jasper and Emmett?"

She nodded. "I feel so guilty."

"Um, why? Did something happen, Al?"

"No, not like you mean, but you don't have to fuck somebody to be unfaithful."

"Alice, I'm so sorry I haven't been there for you. I've been spending so much time with Edward that we haven't talked about the time you've been spending alone with Emmett."

She wiped away another errant tear, focusing her attention on a loose thread on the duvet. I waited for her to talk as she twisted the thread around her finger. Realizing she wasn't going to respond to my comment, I questioned her further.

"If you didn't sleep with Emmett, then why do you feel guilty? Help me understand."

"I think the term is known as an emotional affair." Suddenly, she leaped off the bed and walked into the bathroom. I heard her blowing her nose and then she returned, plopping on the bed next to me with a tissue in her hand.

"Yeah, an emotional affair," she continued. "Even though we haven't been physical, I have very strong romantic feelings for him. So I'm fucking cheating on Jasper emotionally. I've tried to keep a wall up with Emmett and not let myself feel anything for him, but how the fuck do you control that shit?"

As her tears subsided, her tone turned wistful. "Emmett is so vibrant, so alive. He's got this childlike quality to him that is completely intoxicating. We have the same crazy sense of humor, the same love for people, and the same zeal for life. I love every minute with him. We talk so easily. Jasper and I talk easily, too, but with Emmett . . . well, we seem to have that friendship connection _and_ the sexual chemistry, too. I don't feel that spark with Jasper. I never have."

I sat silently, allowing her to empty herself of the bottled emotions she'd had to contain while I was focused on Edward.

Alice sighed. "Besides the guilt, I'm confused because I don't know whether I want to break up with Jasper or not. I love Jasper. He's one of the most important people in the world to me. It fucking kills me to know that I would absolutely break his heart if I left him. Plus, I would break my own heart because our friendship would probably never be the same. I don't want to lose that part of our relationship. And what if I break up with Jasper and then things don't work out with Emmett? I'll be left with nothing. What if this fucking bizarre chemistry between us is just temporary? I mean, I really wish I could try him out before breaking up with Jasper."

She started giggling uncontrollably, so I joined in, laughing as I put my arm around her. We fell back onto the bed, lying on our backs with our feet on the floor. "That sounds really bad, I know."

As our laughter died down, she turned to me. "Bella," she asked quietly, "what do you think I should do?"

"I think you have a very difficult decision that should be made completely independent of Emmett. You can't leave Jasper _because_ of Emmett or _for_ Emmett because as you said, things may not work out with him."

"I hadn't thought of it like that."

I smiled gently. "I think you need to look closely at your relationship with Jasper and decide if it's what you want–decide if it's enough. If it isn't, then you have to walk away so that you'll be free to find what you do want, whether that is with Emmett or somebody else. If you do break things off with Jasper, there isn't any way around the pain of hurting him, but you can't stay with him just because you don't want to hurt him. He deserves to be with someone who is completely in love with him. Letting him go so he can possibly find that kind of love would hurt temporarily, but in the long run, it would be the loving thing to do."

Alice looked at me, her expression one of contemplation. "That makes sense when you break it down like that. Not that the decision would be any less painful, but I think you're right–I need to keep Emmett out of the equation. This should be about me and Jasper. Being around Emmett just makes it even more glaringly clear what Jasper and I are lacking."

"Alice, I'm really sorry I've put you in this position. You've effectively been forced to spend time alone with Emmett, which I'm sure just adds to your confusion, not to mention temptation." I sat up on my knees and looked down at Alice, still lying on her back. "Listen, after we eat dinner, how about we turn in early and watch a movie together, just you and me?"

Alice's mouth slowly curled up into a smirk, her eyes finally twinkling. "You'd give up Edward tonight for me? God, I love your face!"

I grinned back at her, genuinely happy to see her smiling again.

"But, no," she added, shaking her head.

"No?" I repeated, completely bewildered by her response.

"I mean, no, thank you. First, what kind of BFF would I be if I took you away from your man when you only have two nights left with him until who the fuck knows when? Second, even though it is somewhat masochistic of me, I want to spend every minute I can with Emmett. I don't know if I'll ever see him again once we leave England, so I'm going to enjoy him while I have him."

"You're sure? Absolutely sure, Alice?"

"I'm abso-fucking-lutely sure, Bella! Thank you for talking to me, but I need to fix my makeup or I'm going to be late. Why don't you go ahead and go down?"

I glanced at my watch. "Yeah, it's almost time."

Alice headed to the bathroom, and I hurriedly threw on my favorite soft, faded jeans.

"Oh, my god. I look like a fucking raccoon!" Alice bellowed from the bathroom.

Chuckling, I pulled my maroon Arizona State University sweatshirt over my head, opting to go casual for the pub atmosphere.

Alice hollered again. "Make an excuse for me being late, Bells. I'll be down as soon as I can fix the damage on my swollen face."

I slipped on my shoes, slid my key card into my jeans pocket and headed to the door. "I'll tell them you're late because I hogged the bathroom. See ya in a bit."

"Okay, laters."

I hurried down the stairs, anxious to see Edward. I rolled my eyes at my own ridiculousness when it occurred to me that I missed him, even though it had only been barely three hours since I'd seen him.

I entered the pub, immediately scanning the room for a tall, bronze-haired god. Instead, I spotted Emmett, sitting alone at the bar.

"Hey, Em," I greeted, sliding onto the bar stool next to him. "Drinking alone?"

"Not anymore." He smiled, flashing his dimples. "What'll you have?"

I shrugged. "Um, whatever you have there is fine."

Emmett motioned to the bartender, asking for another beer before turning his attention back to me. "Where's Alice?"

"She'll be down in a few. It's a challenge for two women to get beautified with only one mirror, ya know."

He chuckled, but then his expression turned serious. "Is she happy with him, Bella?"

I was caught off guard by Emmett's bluntness, but I quickly decided to be just as frank with him. "No, she's not," I said succinctly, holding his gaze. "But it's rather complex."

A mug of beer was set in front of me, and I said a quick thanks to the bartender. Taking a gulp, I looked back at Emmett. He was still staring at me, waiting for me to continue.

"It's not a bad relationship. I mean–he's good to her. It's just not–"

I paused, knowing it wouldn't be right to share intimate details with him. "You really should ask Alice directly, Em. It's her story to tell, not mine."

"Do you think she'd talk to me about it?"

"I'm not sure, but you could always ask. She'll either talk to you about it or she won't. No harm, no foul, right?"

He nodded, taking a large swig from his mug before setting it on the bar top. "Maybe I will."

"But, Em? She's extremely confused," I cautioned. "She really just needs a friend right now."

"She's confused? Does that mean . . . um, that she maybe feels like I do?"

God, I just wanted to give him a big hug; he looked so hopeful and sad all at the same time. "I think you already know the answer to that," I answered, raising my eyebrows questioningly.

Emmett's eyes lit up as a smile crept across his face. We sat quietly for a few seconds, sipping our beer.

I glanced at the stairs looking for Edward. "I wonder what's keeping Edward," I mumbled.

Emmett looked at me pensively.

"What?" I sneered. His expression puzzled me, as if he was questioning whether he should say whatever was on his mind.

Emmett sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Spit it out, Emmett," I huffed.

Ever since that day at Neuschweinstein Castle when he'd told me about Edward's military service, I felt like I could talk to Emmett about anything. He was easy-going and jovial, instantly putting you at ease. I could see why Alice was drawn to him.

"Fine," he said softly. "Not that my opinion matters, but I'm still not convinced that being with Edward is in your best interest. However, I have to say that you are definitely good for him."

He paused, gauging my reaction. I gave him a small smile, happy to hear he thought I was good for Edward, but I was unwilling to engage in a debate about the difficulty of being romantically involved with someone struggling with PTSD. He was right–it was none of his business.

"Bella, I've known Edward pretty much his entire life. I haven't seen him this happy in a long time. Fuck that–I've _never_ seen him this happy and calm."

Though I was confident that Edward's feelings for me were strong and authentic, it was something else entirely for another person to see it, to confirm it. Hearing Emmett say that I'd had such a profound effect on Edward, left me feeling nearly giddy. "Really?"

I gasped as my eyes were covered by someone from behind me. Startled, my heart raced, and even though I quickly realized it was Edward, the palpitations continued in reaction to his electrifying touch. Covering his hands with mine, I giggled. "I'd know those hands anywhere."

Warm, moist lips pressed against my neck. "Good answer," Edward whispered, his heated breath arousing me.

I swiveled on the stool and nearly groaned aloud when I saw him–he was quite literally breathtaking. He smiled as he stepped between my legs, his hands moving up my thighs to my hips. My eyes quickly scanned the length of his body. He wore a black and white plaid shirt with snug, black jeans. I was as amazed by his perfection as I had been the first time I saw him on that train platform.

Edward raised his eyebrows, his mouth curling into a lopsided smile. "Like what you see?"

"How is it possible that you get more irresistibly handsome every time I see you?" I purred quietly so Emmett wouldn't hear.

He bent down, grazing his lips over my ear. "You keep talking to me like that, I just might throw you over my shoulder and head back upstairs," he whispered. "I'm suddenly not hungry . . . for dinner anyway."

_Holy hell! _

Assertive Edward was my aphrodisiac of choice, instantly turning me into a sex-crazed nymph. There was no way that he could not feel my heart thrashing wildly against my chest. For frak's sake, I felt my pulse in my fingertips and my toes, and my girly bits gushed approval. Just as I was about to dare him to follow through with his enticing threat, Alice's sing-songy voice rang out.

"I'm ready to get my party on with my three traveling BFFs!" Alice flashed a very believable smile. You'd never know she'd been crying her eyes out just a short time ago.

"Hell, yeah," Emmett agreed, standing up to greet her. "Let's grab a booth."

She'd told me she was okay with spending time with Emmett, but I still felt guilty forcing her into a tempting situation. I squeezed my legs together, willing away the titillating ache between them. "To be continued," I whispered to Edward.

We all slipped into a small booth, browsing the menu as we chatted about how hungry we were.

"What the fuck is Stilton?" Emmett asked, looking at the menu.

Edward glanced up from the menu. "It's smelly English cheese," he muttered.

"How the hell do you know that?" My eyes narrowed, looking at him incredulously. "I've never heard of it before either."

Emmett bellowed sarcastically, "Because he's a walking encyclopedia, Bella. Didn't you listen when he admitted that he's a geek?"

Edward sighed dramatically. "Why must I be surrounded by frickin' idiots?" he asked rhetorically with an impressive British accent.

Emmett and Edward exchanged a knowing look before laughing uproariously. They probably thought it was an inside joke, but I too was a fan of juvenile humor á la Austin Powers.

"Oohh, behave!" I chided in my best British accent, which was actually horrendous and somewhat embarrassing.

Edward and Emmett's guffaws halted, and they stared at me with their mouths agape, clearly surprised that I recognized Dr. Evil's line. Alice and I had watched all the Austin Power movies multiple times. The guys didn't even have time to respond to me before Alice jumped on the movie quoting bandwagon.

"Boys?" They both looked at her. "There really is nothing like a shorn scrotum . . . it's breathtaking. I highly suggest you try it." Alice smiled coyly, winking at Emmett.

There was a brief pause, and then we were all in stitches, laughing like maniacal crazy people.

In my peripheral vision I noticed people at the bar turning and staring at us. Hell, we weren't even drunk yet and already were drawing attention to ourselves, not that I cared.

Still giggling, I looked over at Edward. I was completely enraptured by what I saw and heard. Edward held nothing back when he laughed, his mouth wide open, eyes scrunched up, and radiating pure childlike delight. His laughter was infectious, the kind that makes it impossible not to join in, even if you missed the joke.

Emmett turned to Alice, managing to grunt out another quote while still laughing. "I think you're shagedelic, baby! You're switched on! You're smashing!"

Emmett's accent was nearly as bad as mine, which made me snort involuntarily, causing Edward's laughter to increase another decibel.

Just then a young guy approached our table and asked for our order, forcing us to snap out of our hysterics. Edward ordered the Shepherd's Pie, while Alice and I opted for the fried fish and chips. I hadn't had any fish since our day on the Brighton boardwalk, and I hoped it would be just as delicious. Emmett, as usual, ordered the heartier fare–a grilled sirloin steak.

Within a few minutes, the waiter returned with a round of lagers. We clanked our mugs together in a toast.

"Cheers!" Alice bubbled happily.

"To women who appreciate Austin Powers." Edward winked at me with his sexy crooked grin.

"And Jim Carrey," I added, controlling the urge I had to crawl into his lap and lick that sexy smirk off his face. His flirty winks always made my heart all a flutter, but a wink _and_ half-smile was a panty-melting combo.

Emmett bellowed, "Here! Here!"

Everyone took a generous taste of the beer. "Damn, that's good," Emmett concluded. "What the hell is this again?"

"It's called Carling Black Label," Alice reminded him.

"Why the fuck don't we have beer like this in the U.S.?" Emmett swallowed another gulp of lager. "I may have to move here just for the beer."

A booming voice rang out from across the room. "Over here, mate!"

All of us turned toward the voice to see a young man standing next to a table, smiling and waving at a man entering the pub who was dressed in British military fatigues. As the soldier approached, the other men at the table all stood up, one by one exchanging greetings and manly one-armed hugs with him.

"Looks like a homecoming," Alice commented cheerfully.

I glanced at Edward from the corner of my eye, trying to observe his reaction without being obvious. I knew that look–it was the same expression I saw after he woke up from the nightmare about James. Edward downed the last half of his beer in one gulp, nearly expressionless except for his clenched jaw and a hint of ire in his eyes.

"What was your homecoming like, Edward? Did you party it up with Emmett and your friends like those guys?" Alice asked.

_Oh, Alice, you didn't! _I screamed silently._ What the frak?_

I knew she was just trying to be friendly and make conversation, but hell–I thought she knew better than to even approach the subject of Edward's time in the military.

He glared at her as though she had three heads. I held my breath, waiting nervously for Edward's response.

"Not exactly," he finally mumbled, breaking his odious stare.

Edward looked toward the bar, hollering at the bartender, "Hey, is this a fucking bar or what? I'm sitting here bone dry!"

_Holy freaking shit! _

Who was this man sitting beside me? I'd never seen Edward be anything but polite and well-mannered; I was astounded. I looked at Emmett questioningly, but he and Alice both sat silently, mirroring my disconcerted expression.

The bartender frowned at Edward, clearly unappreciative of his outburst, but he hollered that he'd have someone over to our table right away.

We sat in awkward silence for about twenty seconds before our flustered waiter appeared, apologizing and asking what he could get for us.

"Bring us five shots of Patron," Edward grumbled.

"Um, what?" Alice chuckled nervously. "Uh, I can't do tequila. It doesn't like me _or_ Bella very much."

Edward rolled his eyes. "Fine," he hissed. "What the fuck ever–"

A myriad of emotions stirred, threatening to overwhelm me and reveal themselves through tears. I took a deep breath, attempting to control the involuntary emotional reaction to a very disquieting side of Edward.

I knew exactly why he was acting like an ass. I'd seen him glance over his shoulder a few times, eyeing the soldier and his group of friends. It was clear that just the sight of military fatigues had stirred up traumatic memories within him, and Alice's direct question about his military homecoming surely hadn't help. I understood what was happening, but until now the only PTSD symptoms I'd observed were his nightmares and moments of moodiness, like that day at Neuschwanstein Castle when he'd become withdrawn. Sadly, I realized that I'd been naïve to think that that was all there was to it.

"Have you girls ever had a Dirty Girl Scout?" Emmett interjected, attempting to dispel the tension as the waiter was still waiting for our drink order.

Alice and I giggled at the name, asking what the hell was in a Dirty Girl Scout.

"Trust me! You'll love it," Emmett insisted. He turned to the waiter, instructing him to bring two Dirty Girl Scouts and three shots of Patron.

Just minutes later, our drinks were delivered along with our meals. Edward slammed down both of his tequila shots before the rest of us had a chance to join him. He then ordered a Crown and Coke while the waiter was still at the table sitting down our plates. The rest of us threw back our shots together, after which Alice made so many yummy noises that she ended up sounding like Meg Ryan's impromptu faux orgasm at the diner in _When Harry Met Sally_.

"Mmmm . . . oh, my god, Emmett. That was amazing!" she moaned. "It tasted like a fucking Girl Scout Thin Mint cookie."

Emmett grinned widely, clearly pleased with himself. Catching the waiter's attention, he ordered another shot for Alice, asking if I wanted another as well.

I hesitated–I didn't want to get smashed only because I don't enjoy walking around as a tourist all day with a flipping hangover. But it was clear that Edward was intent on getting wasted tonight, and there was nothing worse than being around drunk people when you're sober. "Hell, yes, Emmett - bring on the liquid cookies!"

While we ate dinner, the conversation mostly consisted of Alice and Emmett discussing his career as a freelance writer. She asked him what subjects he usually wrote about, which magazines he'd been published in, and which countries he'd visited. I interjected a comment here and there, attempting to be social, but my focus was on the man sitting in uncharacteristic silence beside me as he ate.

I tried to catch Edward's gaze a few times, but he didn't make eye contact with any of us, his attention solely on his food and whiskey. The man who had shown me affection all day by holding my hand, kissing me, or simply wrapping his arm around my waist was nowhere to be found. Edward hadn't touched me or spoken to me since that soldier had walked through the door. His distance saddened me because I missed his touch and his sweetness, but I wasn't taking it personally. I knew his behavior had nothing to do with me, but it pained me to see him like this, clearly suffering emotional anguish.

I barely tasted the fish and chips I'd looked forward to, mindlessly swallowing each bite as I was preoccupied, trying to determine what I could do to help Edward. Clearly, he wasn't in the mood for conversation so I decided against verbal communication. Instead, I slowly moved my hand under the table, resting my palm on his thigh. He flinched at my touch, and my heart sank, but I kept my hand firmly on his leg as I looked at him.

His startled reaction to my touch led me to believe that he was probably having flashbacks of the war–while sitting in a pub eating dinner. If not flashbacks, at the very least, he was completely lost in his thoughts, oblivious to his surroundings.

Within a few seconds, my hand was engulfed by his. He turned his head toward me, a small smile on his lips. Though I'd known him a very short time, I'd been around him enough to know that this smile wasn't genuine–it was forced. His normally sparkling, warm eyes betrayed him, exposing a risky combination of sadness and anger. I tried to convey an empathetic smile in return, but he turned his attention back to his whiskey, downing the rest of it quickly.

Snippets of Alice and Emmett's conversation broke through my discombobulated thoughts–something about the house Alice and I share in Phoenix being owned by her parents.

Alice's parents are loaded and own multiple residential and commercial properties in the Phoenix Metro area. They allow her to live in one of their rental homes for free, and I was dumbfounded when she'd invited me to live with her rent-free. Initially, I insisted on paying her at least something, the independent woman in me cringing at the thought of "loafing" off of her. She'd finally agreed to take a meager hundred dollars a month, but only if she could put it in our entertainment pot, funding all of our dinners, drinking, and movie-going. It was a blessing, enabling me to not have to work so many hours as a waitress. God, how I hated waiting tables!

Though Emmett and Alice seemed to be enjoying themselves, I could tell she was slightly on edge. I noticed her repeatedly eyeing Edward cautiously while she talked to Emmett. I couldn't blame her–Edward had been an ass to her about the tequila shots. It was clear that his nasty mood was affecting everyone negatively, and he was showing no signs of coming out of it.

After he stuffed the last bite of his dinner into his mouth, he looked toward the bar, and then his gaze darted around the room. He was probably looking for the waiter to order another drink. He'd just finished his fourth drink in only an hour's time, and I wasn't sure I wanted to see a drunk Edward in the midst of PTSD symptoms. Surely, that would be a precarious combination.

With his hand still covering mine, resting on his leg, I turned my hand over and entangled my fingers with his, gently squeezing. Leaning against his shoulder, I whispered, "Do you want to go back upstairs?"

Edward turned, staring at me quizzically, his mouth enticingly close to mine. "Do _you_ want to?"

I smiled, nodding my head.

"Fine," he mumbled quietly, releasing my hand. He stood up, pulled out his wallet and threw a wad of bills on the table. Emmett and Alice looked at us curiously.

Sliding to the edge of the seat, I explained, "Uh, guys, we're going to call it a night."

After a brief lull, their expressions changed from puzzlement to smiles, telling us to have a good evening. I told them to do the same, after which Edward mumbled "night" as he turned away from the table.

He lightly touched the small of my back, directing me toward the stairs. We climbed them in silence, my thoughts scattered, wondering what I could possibly say or do that would bring my Edward back. The uncomfortable silence continued as we walked down the hall toward his room. Edward unlocked his door and held it open, motioning for me to go ahead. I watched as he walked to the bed, tossing his keycard and wallet on the nightstand. As if I wasn't even in the room, he went into the bathroom and shut the door behind him.

_Well, hell._

I plopped on the edge of the bed, expelling all my breath, barely holding back tears. I saw his iPod on the table and a crazy idea popped into my head. Grabbing his keycard, I ran out of the room and into mine, which was just two doors away. After finding my iPod, I sprinted back to his room. Just as I plugged it into the iHome stereo, Edward sauntered out of the bathroom. He sat in a chair next to the bed and began unlacing his shoes.

"So what do you wanna do, Bella?" he said unenthusiastically, his focus on removing his shoes.

Scrolling through my playlist, I selected the song I had in mind. "Um, listen to music?"

He shrugged as he placed his shoes out of the way. Leaning back in the chair, he sighed, crossing his arms behind his head and extending his legs.

As the music filled the room, I began singing along:

_Blinded by the light,  
revved up like a deuce,  
another runner in the night. _

Instead of singing the word "deuce," I sang it as "douche" because that is exactly what it sounded like. In fact, for the longest time, I really thought the singer was saying "douche" until I googled it and discovered the correct lyrics. I can't listen to the song now without laughing my ass off.

I danced around in the small space between the bed and the chair where Edward sat. I watched him as he stared at me. Every time the douche word came up, I leaned over Edward, my hands on the arms of the chair, and sang it loudly right in his face. Then I stepped back, continuing to dance and sing in front of him.

Finally, a small smile slowly crept up on his face, but as ridiculous as I looked and sounded, he should have been in hysterics.

"C'mon, I'm making an ass out of myself," I hollered over the music. "The least you can do is _pretend_ to laugh."

He smiled bigger, choking out a laugh, but it was empty and not believable. It wasn't the laugh I'd heard earlier today, the infectious one that pulls you in, lifting everyone around.

Tiptoeing around his mood in the pub and letting him take the lead hadn't worked. Now, my current plan to distract him with humor was falling flat. It seemed that ignoring the enormous elephant in the room only gave it more power.

I turned abruptly, shutting off the music. Kneeling on the floor in front of him, I took both of his hands in mine, resting them on his legs. He eyed me hesitantly.

"Talk to me, Edward. I mean, I know what's going on. Seeing that soldier down there stirred up painful things for you. Please talk to me about it," I urged. "Tell me what's going on in that beautiful head of yours?"

"I can't, Bella," he said, gritting his teeth. He pulled one of his hands away, tugging at his hair anxiously and turning his gaze elsewhere. "I fucking can't!"

I sighed as I traced the veins in his hand and arm. "I hate seeing you like this. I don't know how to help you," I whispered.

Lifting my chin, his eyes bore into me with their intensity and need. "Distract me, Bella," he commanded, his voice cracking.

"You need to talk about it, Edward. I think it would help to just get some of it out."

"Please, Bella," he pleaded. "What I need is a distraction. I need to get out of my head–I'm trapped in there."

He lowered his head, his lips lingering just millimeters from mine. Between the palpable desperation in his voice and his sweet breath tantalizing my skin, I could deny him nothing. My body craved his physical touch, while my heart ached to comfort him, to release him from his mental torment. Finally, his lips grazed featherlike over mine. "You can take me away from it, Bella."

I leaned closer and kissed him softly, startled when he suddenly gripped the back of my neck and crushed his lips to mine, his tongue pushing into my mouth. I put my hands in his disastrous hair, relishing its texture on my skin as I urgently pulled him more firmly against my mouth. A guttural sound escaped him as he clutched my upper thighs and lifted me from the floor onto his lap, his mouth frantically consuming me.

_Oh, my fuck!_

His raw, primal need sparked my simmering arousal and heated tingles ignited throughout my body. Gasping for air, I broke the kiss, moving my mouth to his jaw, kissing along its edge. His hands traveled hurriedly from my hair down to my ass, his fingers taking long, deep strokes up and down my back. My trembling fingers unbuttoned his shirt while sucking, licking and biting him from his jaw to his collarbone. I was ravenous for him–his skin was supple and warm, his scent intoxicating.

With the last button released, Edward sat up in the chair, stripping off his shirt in one smooth motion. I tugged my top over my head, and before I could blink, Edward had my bra off. He buried his face between my breasts, kissing and licking like a man possessed.

With his strong hands on my back, he pulled me tightly against him, pushing my breast further into his mouth, his tongue swirling and sucking my sensitive flesh.

"Ungh . . . ohh, Edward," I moaned, wrapping my arms around his head and clenching his hair in my fists.

"I want you fucking _now_, Bella!" he grunted, suddenly standing up and lowering me to my feet.

Edward unbuttoned his jeans while simultaneously toeing off his socks, and I hastily mirrored his actions. Dark with desire, Edward's eyes fixated on me as jeans and shoes were thrown haphazardly. I stared shamelessly at his statuesque naked body, feeling that tormenting pulsation between my legs.

_God damn - he's ridiculously stunning!_

He lunged at me, roughly wrapping his arms around my torso and slamming his body against mine. His open mouth explored mine vigorously, and I kissed him back with everything I had. My arousal was literally dripping down my leg, and he hadn't even touched me there yet.

His erection enticed me, its smooth hardness pressing against my stomach, so I pulled back enough to put my hand between our bodies. My small hand encircled his rock hard length, my fingers barely fitting around his thickness. Edward licked and nibbled along my neck, grunting loudly as I stroked him.

Abruptly, he removed my hand from his dick, spinning me around and pulling me toward the chair.

"Bend over," he instructed, his tone authoritative.

I eagerly obeyed, leaning over and gripping the arms of the chair. His hands settled firmly on my hips as he nudged my legs apart with his foot. I panted in anticipation when I felt the tip of his cock tease my opening. He slid into me slowly, and I moaned at the sensation of being filled by him. Once completely sheathed in me, he pulled almost all the way out, and then thrust quickly and forcefully back into me.

"Oh, my god, yesss!" I cried out.

Again, he slammed into me hard, but his pace was slow and methodical.

"So . . . fucking . . . good," he bellowed, his voice raspy. With one hand steadying my hips, his other reached around me, kneading my breast and teasing my nipple.

He began to move quicker, each thrust increasing the euphoric pressure and pulsations where we connected. His hand moved from my breast, and his fingers settled on my clit. He gently squeezed it between his fingers at the precise moment that he slammed his cock into me again. I wailed animalistically, my pussy contracting as wave after wave of scorching heat surged through my body.

"Fuck!" Edward hollered. "I feel you squeezing my dick, baby."

As my body began to relax, his thrusts ceased, but he kept his still hard cock buried deep inside my bent over body. He wrapped his arms around me, laying his chest against my back. His cheek rested on my shoulder as our erratic breaths began to regulate.

He pulled out of me, and I stood up, turning to face him. He gathered me in his arms, kissing me feverishly as he walked me backwards to the bed.

"Sit down," he whispered against my lips.

I sat on the edge of the bed, my eyes never leaving his. "Lay back," he instructed.

His confidence and assertiveness was a huge fucking turn on. As soon as I complied, Edward took hold of my legs, pulling me until my ass was at the edge of the bed. Crouching down, he lifted my legs up, placing my ankles on his shoulders.

His penetrating gaze bore into me as he took his erect cock in his hand and stroked himself. I was utterly hypnotized by the sight. After a few quick strokes, he lined his cock up with my entrance. He slammed into me, and I let out a squeak followed by a "fuck."

He immediately rose up out of his crouched position, lifting my hips off the bed. With my feet on his shoulders, he gripped my thighs as his cock filled me again and again, his thrusts forceful and his pace frenzied. I moaned and whimpered and panted in ecstasy, clutching the edge of the bed to keep my body in place.

I fought the urge to clench my eyes closed as the tension spiraled deep in my core. I needed to keep them open, unwilling to miss the sight of this beautiful man thrusting into me with his chiseled body, a sheen of sweat glistening on his skin.

His hands moved up my thighs to my ankles, removing them from his shoulders. Still inside of me, he scooted my body away from the edge of the bed, crawling up onto it on his knees. He pushed my legs up so that my knees rested next to my breasts and then pushed into me again.

I cried out, his cock stimulating my g-spot in this new position. He bent down, hovering over me with his forearms resting on each side of my head. As soon as he did so, I grabbed him tightly, pulling his mouth to mine. His wet, soft mouth was delicious, and I lapped at it hungrily.

"You feel so good inside of me," I panted as he sucked and bit at my lips.

He growled, pushing my knees even further against my torso and thrust into me with force.

"Ohhh . . . fuck!" I screamed.

His mouth covered mine as he slid out slowly and then entered me again, hard and fast. He maintained that pace–leaving me slowly, entering me fast and hard–while never removing his mouth from mine. Taking me by surprise, I exploded in orgasm, moaning in pleasure as I released my arousal.

As the warm moisture seeped out of me, Edward's entire body contracted. He clung to me tighter, and his lips became taut against my open mouth as he came inside of me. "Motherfucker," he groaned.

We remained still, breathing loudly. Edward buried his face in my neck, languidly licking and kissing my skin. As our bodies relaxed, and we came down from our high, Edward pulled out of me. I immediately straightened and stretched my stiff legs. _Not complainin', just sayin'. _

Edward scooted up on the bed to the pillows. "Come here, baby," he said softly, reaching for me.

I crawled next to him, lying on my side to face him. He pulled me close until our naked bodies touched, and he hitched my leg over his hip. Caressing my cheek, he kissed me sweetly. I nuzzled my face against his chest, basking in the moment. We lay quietly, his fingers stroking my back as mine explored his chest.

After several minutes, my giggles broke the comfortable silence. "You shagged me rotten, baby!" I said in my best Austin Powers imitation.

Edward laughed hard. It was the laugh that I loved, the one that lights up his whole face, and, in turn, illuminates my entire world. I watched him throw his head back, his mouth wide open in laughter, the sound echoing through the room, and I realized _that_ laugh had become my favorite sound in the world. My Edward was back . . . at least, for now.

* * *

**A/N: Just in case you've forgotten, James (who Edward was dreaming about) is Edward's friend and fellow soldier who died in the battle for which Edward was awarded a medal. Edward risked his life to save James, but he still died from his wounds. (Refer to Chapter 10 if you want to refresh your memory.) **

**To see pictures that accompany each chapter, including this one, visit one of the following:**

**Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. **

**For photos and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL - **

**/groups/281151482005898/**

**Then request to be added to the group. **


	16. From Heaven to Hell

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: Pickwicksociety, JenKB, Guitargirl, and Mel/mcc101180 make me a better writer.**

* * *

**Chapter 16 – From Heaven to Hell**

"In the late 15th century, guards were passing the Bloody Tower when they spotted the shadows of two small figures gliding down the stairs, still wearing the same white night shirts they wore the night they disappeared," the short, stocky tour guide said menacingly. "The apparitions stood silently, hand in hand, before fading back into the stones of the wall."

Standing in the tower where so many were imprisoned and executed was a little creepy, but I felt a tinge of sadness more than unease. The story of the little princes was truly tragic.

When we'd entered the Bloody Tower, our tour guide had explained that thirteen year old Edward V was set to be crowned king after his father, King Edward IV, passed away. Edward and his younger brother, ten year old Richard, Duke of York, were brought to the royal residence section of the Tower of London to await Edward's coronation.

"So at first they were just living here but weren't imprisoned?" Alice clarified.

The tour guides, officially referred to as Yeoman Warders, acted as ceremonial guardians of the Tower of London. The distinguished gentleman straightened his black and red hat, which matched his royal dress uniform.

"That's correct, miss," he replied. "But while waiting for the date of the coronation to arrive, evidence was presented indicating their father, King Edward IV, was already married when he wed the boys' mother. Based on this information, Parliament declared the king's marriage null and the princes' births illegitimate, thus removing Prince Edward from the line of succession."

Alice scrunched her noise, glancing at me. "Wow, that would blow, wouldn't it?"

I nodded my head while shushing her with a finger to my lips. The Yeoman was still speaking, and I didn't want to miss a word. Stepping closer to him, I squeezed Edward's hand, pulling him along with me.

"In 1483, their uncle, Richard, Duke of Gloucester, was crowned King instead of Prince Edward, and the young princes were imprisoned in the Bloody Tower." He motioned the group to follow as he stepped further into the room. "Historians presume they either died or were killed here. We do know that there were no reported sightings of the boys after the summer of 1483."

A tourist in our group raised her hand, interrupting the Yeoman's spiel. I leaned into Edward, speaking quietly. "What are the odds that two children would die of natural causes around the same time?"

I shook my head in sad disbelief at the injustice of it, imagining the pain of being just a child, grieving your father's death and being raised in royalty, only to be thrust into a dank prison tower and then, ultimately, murdered. "They were definitely killed," I muttered.

Edward pressed his lips to my forehead. "Definitely."

Wrapping my arms around his waist, I turned my attention back to the tour guide. "In the 1600s, two small skeletons were discovered in the White Tower in a wooden box under the stairs leading to the chapel," he continued. "It is believed that they are the remains of the two princes. You may now look around freely, and I'm available to answer any further questions you may have."

Taking advantage of the break, I kissed Edward, settling into an embrace with my cheek pressed against his shoulder. I closed my eyes and let the memories of last night play across my mind's eye.

After the abysmal dinner in the pub, we had retreated to Edward's room, but his emotional distress and anger had continued. When he'd kissed me, telling me that I could take him away from his tormented mind, he was correct. After the mind-blowing, aggressive sex, the angry and withdrawn Edward had retreated, allowing room for a calm and jovial Edward to emerge. We'd cuddled, talked, and laughed together for about an hour before drifting off to sleep.

Unfortunately, with sleep came the opportunity for his memories to come alive, tormenting him while smothered under the blanket of slumber. I had startled awake when Edward sat straight up in bed, gasping loudly. This time I had known to keep my mouth shut. Words of comfort were not only futile against this level of emotional trauma, but I'd already learned that they could also be inflammatory.

He hunched over, his elbows resting on his drawn up knees. I watched quietly as he buried his face in his hands, his breathing labored and a sheen of perspiration on his skin.

I'd had to dig deep for the self-control to keep my words and hands to myself; every natural instinct wanted to pull him to me and shower him with words of comfort and reassurance. But my words would be akin to putting a bandage on a femoral bleed. The only words with the power to heal him were his own–exposure therapy would require him to face the fear by verbalizing the experience. Watching him helpless in the clutches of horror, I knew I had to find a way to convince him to seek treatment. Until then, I would have to sit helplessly and silently, watching him suffer.

He scrubbed his face wildly with his hands, leaving them tightly wound in his hair. Another minute passed before he slowly lay back, turning onto his side, facing away from me. He appeared to be through the worst of it, so I cautiously placed my hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry," he said ever so quietly.

Pressing my naked body against his back, my arm rested over him as my fingers stroked the light dusting of hair on his chest. "No, _I'm_ sorry," I whispered into his neck before kissing it gently.

I was sorry that a soul as beautiful as Edward's had been exposed to the atrocities and violence of war. I was sorry that he not only lost his friend, James, but witnessed his death. I was sorry that even though he was no longer in the battlefield, the battlefield was still in him.

Edward's hand enclosed mine, stopping my movements across his chest. He moved our clasped hands, resting them tightly against his chest.

The next morning before I returned to my room to shower, Edward had wrapped me in his arms so tightly I could barely move. He looked down at me intently. "Bella, I owe you an apology. I'm sorry I ruined everybody's evening, and I intend to apologize to both of them as well. I behaved like an ass, and I'm so sorry."

I rose to my tiptoes and placed a tender kiss on his plump lips. "Apology accepted," I said succinctly. "I'm just happy you seem to be feeling better today."

"Thank you." He paused, his eyes darting aimlessly for a moment before returning his gaze to mine. He smiled sheepishly. "You make me feel better, Bella," he divulged in a tentative tone. "You make me happy."

I grinned ear to ear, smiling so big my jaw muscles quivered. Grasping his head with both hands, I aggressively pulled his mouth to mine, pouring all the happiness and passion bubbling inside me into kissing him.

An hour later we were at the station, catching a very early morning train in order to get to London by mid-day. Once we had arrived in London, we checked into a hotel, wolfed down some lunch at a nearby pub, and then hopped on the tube to the Tower of London. The name was misleading because it wasn't _a_ tower–it actually consisted of multiple towers and a palace, all of which was protected by a stone wall around the perimeter. Truly, it was a massive fortress.

I sighed sadly into Edward's chest, realizing that our afternoon at the Tower of London was nearly over. We'd already seen the crown jewels, the armoury collection in the White Tower, and the residential palace.

I looked up at him, wishing I could kiss him like I had this morning in the hotel room. Somehow I didn't think the Yeoman would appreciate that much PDA in his tour group.

Edward nudged me from my lust-filled daydreaming, and we followed the Yeoman to the Lower Wakefield Tower where several instruments of torture were displayed. The disturbingly creative torture devices were both interesting and disconcerting.

The three hour tour ended at the Beauchamp Tower where we saw prisoner graffiti. This wasn't graffiti like we had in Phoenix, where gang thugs sprayed paint all over neighborhood walls. This graffiti was actually carved into the stone walls by the myriad of prisoners held there during the Middle Ages. Some carved only their names while others etched their thoughts into the granite.

"Thomas Steven. James Roger." Edward whispered their names as we scanned the walls.

"Edward, look at this one," I said, pointing to an inscription.

He stepped behind me, pressing his body against mine. His strong arms encircled me as I began reading the message that William Tyrrel left carved in the wall in 1541. _"Since Fortune has chosen that my hope should go to the wind to complain, I wish the time were destroyed; my planet being ever sad and ungracious."_

Edward's brows furrowed. "That had to take a long time to carve out, but I suppose he had nothing but time, huh?"

"Any chance you two are ready to go?" Alice's voice rang out from behind us.

We turned around to reply, but she kept right on talking in the way only Alice can. "Because I'm going to collapse from dehydration if I don't get some liquid nourishment soon," she dramatically declared.

Emmett chuckled. "Actually, I could use a little snack before dinner. I saw a café on the other side of the grounds. We could stop in there before we leave."

"Yeah, that sounds good," Edward said cheerfully. "Why don't you guys head over there, and we'll meet you in a few?"

They both very eagerly agreed. I smiled at their transparency; they clearly were happy about having a few minutes alone together.

As Emmett and Alice walked away, I turned back to continue browsing the carved messages. After a minute, I realized Edward was no longer beside me. Turning around, I saw him a few steps away, staring at the exit where Emmett and Alice had just left.

"Edward?"

He turned, taking rapid steps toward me. "Come," he commanded, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the exit.

"Where are we going? I thought you wanted to look around here some more." I quickened my pace, trying to keep up with his long, swift strides.

He chuckled, glancing at me with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "No, I just wanted them to think that. I didn't want to leave until I was sure they were gone."

"What? Why?" I squeaked, confused but energized by his mysterious behavior. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see." He smiled deviously. "Let's just say I saw an area earlier that I want to check out."

I narrowed my eyes at him, wondering what he was up to. "Oh-kay?" I said, drawing out the syllables.

He led me across the courtyard and then along an interior wall. He stopped suddenly in front of an arched opening in the stone façade. I noticed a conspicuous "Keep Out" sign posted next to the archway. Edward looked around the walkway, and then stared intently at a couple passing by. As soon as they were out of sight, he pulled me forcefully through the archway into a dark hallway.

"Edward, what the hell?" I whispered frantically. "That sign said 'keep out.'"

"Exactly!" Pressing me against the stone wall with his body, he lifted my hands above my head, holding them in place while his other hand fastened tightly around my bum. "That means all the rule-abiding tourists won't be coming this way."

His open mouth fell hard and eager against mine, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth. I was shocked and uneasy for a moment, worrying that we'd be seen, but I was powerless to resist the sweet nectar of his mouth. I kissed him back, matching the ravenous ministrations of his supple lips, our tongues madly mingling. I was lost in him, utterly lost, swallowed up by his scent, his dominating stature, his marble-like physique molded to mine, and his soft, wet mouth.

Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead on mine, his chest heaving as his vast hands meandered tantalizingly over my hips and thighs. "I've been dreaming about tasting this sweet mouth of yours all fucking day long," he nearly growled. "I couldn't wait until tonight."

"Oh, Edward," I whispered breathily, pulling my hand free from above my head. Hearing his words, something snapped inside me. I loved that I made him feel this way; Edward's urgent need to have me _now_ was my own personal aphrodisiac, inciting my own frenzied lust for him. Caressing his stubbled jaw, I looked into his soul, his piercing gaze capturing me as his willing prey, ready and eager to be devoured by him.

I was completely out of my comfort zone, never having engaged in any type of sexual activity in public. I knew that some people got off on the risk of being caught, but for me, the idea of being discovered was not alluring–it was abhorrent. Even if I hadn't been uncomfortable with the concept, I'd never desired a man so intensely that I couldn't just flipping wait until we got home to get down and dirty. Likewise, no man had ever ached for me enough to be unable to wait for privacy, or so I assume, since neither Jacob nor Mike had ever attempted anything like this.

Edward's fingers kneaded my hip before he slid his hand over my thigh and gripped it tightly. The possessive way he clung to me and the raw emotion emanating from his eyes made me certain that he felt the unfathomable connection between us as compellingly as I did. The ancient stone walls around us fell away, and I was in paradise, no longer fearful of being discovered. Nothing else existed in this moment except the magnificent creature in front of me, breathing his hot breath against my cheek, awaiting approval to consume me.

I clutched his ass, squeezing and forcefully pulling his hips against me, signaling that I was his to have–right now. I couldn't suppress a whimper when his firm erection pressed against my stomach, and I ached to feel his hardness a little lower.

_Damn my shortness. _

His open lips nipped and licked the sensitive flesh of my neck before molding to my panting lips. I slid my tongue against his, moaning into his mouth, a moan full of yearning and deep feeling. He kissed me back less frantically than before but with every bit as much passion. His lips and tongue moved in tandem with mine, slowly and purposefully.

With our mouths still as one, he pulled his body away slightly. Before I had time to object, his thumb pressed firmly on my clit, rubbing deliberate circles over it.

"Oh, god . . . ungh . . .yess." I cried into his mouth, gasping for breath.

If I couldn't have his hard cock rubbing against my girly parts, Edward's fingers were the next best thing. He moved his left hand up, placing it behind my head, effectively cradling it in his palm, protecting me from the hard, stone wall behind me. Simultaneously, his right hand moved away from my fabric-covered pussy, sliding past the waistband of my leggings and under my panties.

Thank the gods of finger fucking that I hadn't worn tight jeans today! My Lycra-infused leggings stretched away from my body easily, allowing Edward's fingers to roam unrestricted.

"Fuck," he whispered. "It feels like you already came, baby." He chuckled against my cheek, peppering my face with wet kisses.

"So close–" I purred, nearly rendered mute by the mounting tension in my body. His fingers slid up the entire length of my opening back to that throbbing, swollen spot. His fingers moved expertly, teasing it rhythmically.

"Ohh . . . fuck . . . Edward!" As the pressure built and my muscles quivered, I dug my fingers into his back, clinging to him for support.

"Bella Baby, as much as all your fucking hot noises turn me on, you have to be quiet." Edward's warm, soft tongue drew a wet line from my collarbone to my ear. "Can you do that for me because I really don't want to have to stop," he whispered, swirling his tongue in my ear.

The second I furiously nodded my head in agreement, he plunged his fingers into me. I bit my lip hard, struggling against my natural instinct to cry out.

_Oh, fuck, I can't believe I'm doing this. _

He pumped his long, elegant fingers into my pussy in slow yet vigorous thrusts. My legs slightly buckled when one of those fucking long fingers curled up, stroking my sweet spot inside. As I teetered on the edge of orgasm, the massiveness of his hand enabled him to press his thumb against my clit while his finger continued teasing that special place inside. I moaned and whimpered but managed to stifle a silent scream as I tumbled over into the abyss of ecstasy, floating in waves of rapture. The muscles in my legs contracted, seemingly reduced to jelly, and they began to fold under my weight.

Edward quickly moved his hand from behind my head, wrapping it tightly around my waist and held me firmly in place. "That's it, baby, squeeze my fingers," he groaned. "Fuck, you are so sexy, so fucking beautiful."

As the tension in my body melted away, he pulled his hand out of my panties. His eyes were intense and lustful, and they bore into mine as he lifted his hand slowly to his mouth. He slid his pointer finger between his lips, sucking it like a lollipop. I was spellbound, unable to speak or look away.

"Mmm, you taste like heaven," he whispered throatily. I nearly came again right then, which released me from my trance, allowing me to put my desire into action.

I stroked his jeans-covered cock, drawing out a gasp from his swollen lips. Just as I thought, he was still rock-hard. I stepped away from the wall, nudging him toward it as my fingers began working to unbutton his jeans. "I wanna see what _you_ taste like."

His fingers wrapped around my wrist, halting my movements. "Bella, it's okay. You don't have to . . . especially not here."

"I know I don't _have_ to, baby." I looked into his eyes so he'd see my sincerity, not to mention my desire. "I _want_ to . . . I fucking _need_ to," I insisted.

Not allowing him time to answer, I pushed against his chest until he stepped back against the wall. My fingers went to work on his button-fly while I kissed every inch of his glorious face, sucking his velvet lip, licking the roughness of his jaw, and nipping at the flesh of his thick, masculine neck.

With the last button released, I stepped back to look at him, audibly gasping at the sight.

_This man is pure unadulterated lust packed into a long, tall bottle of sexy._

His tall, chiseled body was a work of art on display against the blond stone background. His expression was feral, matching the wild disarray of his bronze hair. His unzipped black hoodie covered his bunched up red t-shirt, revealing his rippled stomach. And thank fuck that Edward always went commando because I wouldn't even have to pull his jeans down. The button-fly of his faded jeans was splayed open, allowing his engorged cock to stand at attention, unrestricted by the denim. He was truly a sight to behold, and I had to taste him . . . _now_.

I gripped his cock with both of my hands so that his entire length was encased. Edward groaned, and his hands flew upward to my cheeks as he leaned down to kiss me. I stroked him a few times, reveling in the feel of his tongue on my lips and his satiny hardness against my palms.

Breaking the kiss, I bent over and swiftly took as much of him into my mouth as I could.

"Ohhh, shit . . . _fucking _shit," he sputtered.

His outburst made me giddy knowing I could affect him this way, and I hummed my giggle of delight as I sucked and licked up and down his length.

"Bella, Bel-la . . . oohh."

Somehow I'd been oblivious before, but now, along with Edward's muted moans, I distinctly heard the voices of tourists passing the open archway we had come through. At least, I _hoped_ they were tourists and not employees about to enter the unauthorized area we occupied. My earlier orgasm had apparently rendered me not only mute but also deaf.

I looked up at Edward through my eyelashes and found him watching me, his hands wound in his hair and his lips pursed together. I smiled at him with my eyes before returning my full attention to his pulsing erection. It was literally physically impossible for me to take him in completely, so one hand worked in tandem with my mouth while my other hand gripped his ass cheek, steadying myself.

My lips were suctioned tightly around his cock, and my tongue danced along the sensitive underside of his shaft as I filled my mouth with him. Sucking my way back up his length, my lips formed a tight seal around the head, and I swirled my tongue along the rim before flicking the frenulum underneath. That action brought about a few more expletives; his voice, now raspy and strained, whirled above me. The sounds of his visceral want spurred me on, and I quickened my pace. I moaned my pleasure as my movements became frenzied. I became voracious, sucking and licking his cock like an ice cream cone in the hands of a starving person.

"Bell . . . Bella, I'm . . . gonna come," Edward mumbled, his hands trying to lift my head. He was such a gentleman to warn me, and, normally, I would have gladly stepped away from the spooge fountain.

I had swallowed once–and only once–with Jacob. It was the gelatinous texture more than the pungent taste that had grossed me out, but with Edward I felt differently about it, which was utterly astonishing. To me, Edward was sex personified–everything about him stirred up the most base and carnal desires within me. I was more insatiable than I'd ever been before, needing to be closer to him, to possess him, but I couldn't seem to get enough of him to satisfy the lingering craving. I wanted all of him, and nobody could be more shocked than me that this included his jizz. Also, ever the pragmatist, if I didn't swallow, then we'd have to deal with a mess, and I didn't have any tissues handy.

I plunged my tongue into the slit on the head, and then I quickly swallowed his length once more. He nudged my head again in warning, but I ignored him. My mouth had a vice grip on his dick so fierce that if he'd forcibly pulled me off, his manhood probably would have come along with me, which would have been fucking tragic. Thankfully, his hand stopped pulling at my head, and instead he gathered my long hair, wrapping it around his hand for an unobstructed view.

"Now, baby," he grunted in a low growl. His release pulsed into my mouth, and I kept my lips suctioned around him, gulping repeatedly until the stream ended. I licked him clean, listening to the blissful sounds of his labored breaths and contented sighs.

Gripping my forearms, Edward pulled me up, kissing me tenderly. His lips moved luxuriously over mine while my fingers tucked his very satisfied dick back into his jeans, buttoning them blindly.

I straightened my long sweater and ran my fingers through my hair, attempting to hide any clues of what I'd just done. I glanced at Edward to see if he needed tidying up, but the only thing that looked different was that his lips were slightly more red and plump than usual. His hair had that "I've just been fucked" look, but that was per usual for him.

"That was unexpected and fucking amazing." He took hold of my hand. "You ready?"

I nodded with a smile. He moved along the wall until we were next to the open doorway. We stood quietly, listening to the sounds of people walking by. Once it was quiet, Edward cautiously poked his head around the wall to see if the coast was clear. I followed his lead as we quickly stepped hand in hand through the archway.

I felt like the luckiest woman in the world; it seemed I had won the Adonis lottery when Edward came into my life. He was a masterful and passionate lover, intelligent, compassionate, a loyal friend, and a genuine hero.

We still needed to have "the talk" and decide how we could manage to be together living in different states. I couldn't wait to tell him that I'd decided to move to Seattle once I finished my student teaching and graduated. That wouldn't be until May, so we'd have to be apart for a couple of months. We could manage with phone calls, and maybe he could swing a weekend visit or two to Phoenix.

It didn't make sense for him to come to Phoenix and leave behind his executive position at Cullen Industries, not to mention his entire family. Sure, I'd have to leave my mom and brother, but Seth wasn't around much anyway, and my mom and I weren't close. Being in Seattle would mean I could spend more time with my dad since Forks was only a few hours away. The biggest sacrifice would be leaving my friends, especially Alice. Fortunately, she has lots of Daddy's cash to burn through, so she would be able to afford frequent trips to Seattle for a visit. I had it all planned out in my head, and I hoped it wouldn't be too much, too fast for Edward.

As we headed toward the café to meet Emmett and Alice, I checked my watch. "It's only been thirty minutes. They'll believe we spent that much time looking at the graffiti, right?"

Edward laughed as he zipped up his hoodie. "Yeah, I think they'll buy it. Emmett has had to nearly drag me out of museums before." His arm slid around my back, resting on my hip as we walked.

"Speaking of Emmett, I'm curious about something." With my arm slung about his waist, I hooked my finger in his belt loop. "Obviously Emmett is single right now, but has he had any significant relationships?"

"Why do you ask?" He glanced down at me, his eyes squinting and his forehead wrinkling.

"I'm just watching out for my girl. I mean, even though they haven't acted on their feelings or even acknowledged them to each other, that could change at some point. My gut tells me Emmett is worthy of her, but I need to make sure."

"I can assure that he is, Bella. He's the best man I know, but to answer your question, he's had one serious relationship. Lauren was his high school sweetheart. They were together during their junior and senior years."

"What happened?"

"Life happened. Lauren got a scholarship to Cornell, so she couldn't pass up an opportunity like that. Emmett stayed behind and went to the University of Washington in Seattle. They tried the long distance thing for a while, but eventually just grew apart."

"That's been several years ago though. What about since then?"

"He dates quite a bit but nobody for any length of time."

"He's dates quite a bit?" I repeated quizzically, trying to keep the worry out of my voice. "What does that mean exactly? Please tell me he's not a man whore."

Edward laughed uproariously, squeezing my hip as he pulled me tighter against his side. "Well, I suppose that depends on your definition of a man whore, which may not be the same as mine."

I wasn't sure why he found my question so hilarious, but he glanced down at me still smiling, waiting for my reply. "I didn't realize there was more than one definition. It's pretty black and white, I think."

Stopping suddenly, he dropped his arm from my hip. He looked at me, his expression humorless. "Nothing is black and white, Bella. Of _that_ I am sure."

His serious tone threw me, and I stared at him incredulously, momentarily at a loss for words. His demeanor was defensive, but would he become sensitive like this solely in defense of Emmett? Or was he defending his own behavior?

_Oh, my god! Was Edward a man whore? _

That would explain his mind-blowing sexual skills. Nobody could have such fine-tuned techniques and so many sexual positions in his arsenal without having a lot of literal hands-on experience. But then again, he'd turned me down more than once. If he was a man whore, why hadn't he just fucked me that night in Munich when I'd invited him into my hotel room? And just like that, within ten minutes, I'd gone from public sex euphoria to man whoring dysphoria. I was so freaking confuzzled.

Edward's voice interrupted my disturbing epiphany. "Bella, just tell me what constitutes a man whore in your view, and then I'll be happy to answer your question." His tone was calm and matter-of-fact.

I sighed, anxiously pulling my hair into a ponytail before dropping it again. "Okay, fine." I nibbled my bottom lip nervously. "Uh, let's see . . . a man whore is a man who . . . who screws random women indiscriminately."

Edward chuckled, shoving both of his hands into his hoodie pockets. "Well, that's a start, but your definition is still rather broad. So Emmett is a man whore if he screws random women indiscriminately? Okay . . . how many women, Bella? How many indiscriminate hook-ups does it take to be a whore? One? Three? Ten?" His voice was still low and controlled, but his tone was impatient and bitter.

Edward's argument was persuasive, and I didn't have an intelligent answer, so I listened, wide-eyed and discomfited.

"Does your definition allow for consideration of the time period in which these random hook-ups occur? Or is it black and white? Ten hook-ups and–bam–you're a whore? Does it matter if those ten occurred over a six month period versus a three year time frame?"

I stared at him, frozen, now more certain than before that he was actually defending himself, more so than Emmett.

"Are you going to say anything, Bella?" he mumbled.

I trained my eyes on the ground, toeing some pebbles on the concrete. "Why do I get the feeling we're not talking about Emmett anymore?" I sputtered timidly.

Edward blew out a puff of air and removed a hand from his pocket, scratching his jaw and then tugging at his hair. Pulling his hood up over his head, he stepped toward me and encircled me in his arms. "I'm sure you'd agree this isn't the ideal place to talk about this, right? Plus, they're waiting for us. We can talk about it tonight, okay?" The impatience in his voice had melted away, leaving room for the tender tone I adored.

"Okay . . . you're right," I agreed, offering a small smile. "I'm sorry." I was sorry for judging, for ruining our post-orgasm high, and for upsetting him. It wasn't intentional, but, nevertheless, I was sorry.

He nuzzled his nose to mine before brushing his lips lightly across my mouth. "I'm sorry, too."

Hand in hand, we walked briskly across the courtyard to the café, hoping that an interrogation didn't await us.

* * *

My eyes fluttered open, the sound of the shower turning off pulling me from my late afternoon nap. I extended my arms above my head, arching my back as I yawned. I hadn't intended to sleep when I'd stretched out on the bed to wait for my turn in the bathroom, but I wasn't surprised that the white noise of the shower had lulled me to sleep. I'm a white noise addict. A floor fan is a permanent fixture in my bedroom back home, and I'd had difficulty sleeping without it during my first weeks in England. My dorm room had been too damned quiet, except for the shrieks of drunken co-eds down the hall, which didn't qualify as white noise.

I rolled onto my back, staring at the ceiling as the unexpected man whore conversation with Edward played over and over in my mind. Certainly, I didn't expect that Edward wouldn't have a sexual past, nor did I think that he would have only had a meager two partners like me. He was a hot-as-fuck, robust, twenty-eight year old man who probably had women propositioning him on a daily basis. But having prior sexual partners in the confines of a relationship and being recklessly promiscuous are two very different things.

Even if he'd had a licentious past, should it matter to me? I wasn't sure exactly why it bothered me so much. As long as he was faithful to me, his prior man whoring ways shouldn't matter, right? But therein laid the fear–could a man whore ever be monogamous and faithful? _Once a man whore, always a man whore._ Where I got that little adage, I had no idea, but it seemed logical.

I hoped my concern was misplaced, that I'd misinterpreted his defensive diatribe. Maybe he really was that fiercely protective of Emmett, and his emotional rant didn't stem from self-protection. I groaned, forcing the troubling questions from my consciousness, replacing them with racy memories of getting Edward off in semi-public.

The bathroom door flew open with a bang, and Alice sauntered into the room wrapped in a towel. "What are you so happy about?" she demanded. "You look like the cat who ate the fucking canary."

I smiled broadly, not even trying to hold back my zeal. I giggled as I sprung to my knees, literally bouncing on the bed as I told Alice about getting down and dirty with Edward at the Tower of London.

Alice's eyes grew saucer-like, her mouth agape. "Holy fuck, Bella! Are you fucking kidding me?"

My hands flew to my face, my cheeks flushed, and I laughed uncontrollably as I flopped onto my back.

Alice couldn't help but laugh at my juvenile silliness. "Well, I was close," she said. "You are not the cat who ate the canary. You are the Bella who ate the cock." She smirked wickedly.

"Oh god! Alice, stop, please. I can't breathe," I pleaded, wiping away a hysterics-induced tear.

"I'm happy for you, sweets, but I can't believe you got the goods while I was horny as hell all day. I couldn't keep my eyes off Emmett's goods. I know you aren't happy about it, but I'm actually relieved we're leaving tomorrow because all I can think about is letting Emmett's man snake play in my lady garden. And that just can't happen!"

"For the love of God, Alice!" I hollered, gasping for air as I rolled in hysterics on the bed. "Lady garden? Where do you get this stuff?"

She smirked, shrugging her shoulders as she wiggled into her jeans. I sat up, taking deep breaths and wiping at my wet cheeks as I attempted to talk to her about Emmett.

"So about Emmett–or rather, about Jasper–you haven't made a decision yet?"

Alice's face fell as she shook her head. "It's a fucking life-altering decision, Bella. I'm terrified of making it, of making the wrong choice."

"I wish I could help you," I told her, my voice soft and sincere.

She sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on her boots and looked up at me with a smile. "So do I, Bella, so do I."

"Um, I know I told you that Emmett shouldn't be part of the equation, part of your decision, and I still feel that way. But, uh, maybe it would be helpful to know if Emmett would even be a good partner for you, if you did leave Jasper," I spoke cautiously. "Edward and I talked today, and I'm not sure, but I sort of got the impression that Emmett might be . . . uh, er, promiscuous? I mean, maybe you should know more about his past."

"I know everything about his past, Bella."

"What? Really?" I was truly shocked. "Uh, do you know about Lauren then?"

"Bella, I appreciate your concern. I do, but it isn't necessary." Alice walked to the dresser and picked up an earring, putting it on and fiddling to get the back of it in place. "Yes, Emmett told me all about Lauren. He's also told me pretty much everything that's happened in his life from then until now, including his sexual history."

Now it was my turn to hang my mouth open in shock. I had no idea how close they'd become.

"Like I said before," she continued, "it's very natural with Emmett, like it is with Jasper. We're comfortable with each other. But unlike with Jasper, Emmett and I have a physical connection, a chemistry that is definitely not platonic."

"He asked me about Jasper and you the other night. I haven't had a chance to mention it."

"I know. Emmett told me about your conversation, and he asked me about Jasper himself."

"Yeah, I didn't tell him much. I told him it was your story to tell and that he should ask you."

"Well, he did, and we had a good talk."

"So, have you guys talked at all about your feelings for each other?"

"No," she said firmly, dropping herself onto the bed. "It just feels like it would be a blatant betrayal of Jasper to verbally acknowledge romantic feelings to another man. I suppose technically that _having_ feelings for another man is cheating, but . . . I don't know.

"Plus, I think if we acknowledged how we feel about each other, it would give even more power to this thing between us. If he offered his heart to me, if he confessed feelings for me, I don't think I'd have the strength to hold myself back any longer. Yep, I'd definitely fuck him senseless, and then I'd be a cheater." She laughed bitterly. "I need to be away from him, away from the temptation, and I have to make a decision about Jasper.

"Emmett and I are going to stay in touch. Hell, he gave me his home number, his cell number, his email, his snail mail address, and his Twitter name." She laughed again, this time with echoes of happiness.

Glancing at the alarm clock, I launched off the bed and hurried to the bathroom. "Shit, Alice, I've gotta get in the shower." Alice's snickering floated behind me as I closed the door.

Our last dinner together as the traveling foursome was everything I'd hoped. Alice, as usual, was highly skilled in the art of camouflaging her ongoing inner conflict, her snarky and playful self in top form. Emmett was his easy-going, joyful self; I'd yet to witness even a hint of grouchiness in that man. Edward was talkative and witty, a stark contrast to his demeanor during dinner last night when he'd turned into Assward. I was able to temporarily suspend my anxiety about Edward and Emmett's possible man whoring past and just enjoy their company.

As we ate and drank gluttonously, the boys amused us with anecdotes from their childhood. I found their stories about Halloween particularly entertaining. They had gone trick-or-treating together every single year from the time they'd met in kindergarten when they were five until they gave it up when they were thirteen.

"So do you remember some of the things you dressed up as?" I asked.

Edward swiped his mouth with a napkin. "One year we were both really into Batman, so we decided to go as Batman and Robin."

"Oh, how cute," I teased, squeezing Edward's leg.

Emmett smiled, nodding his head. "Oh, dude! I remember that."

"How old were you?" Alice asked Emmett.

"Oh, hell, I'm not sure." Emmett looked at Edward questioningly. "I think third or fourth grade, maybe?"

Swallowing a chug of beer, Edward lowered his mug to the table, nodding. "Third grade. So, anyway, the problem was that we couldn't agree on who would be Batman and who would be Robin. I swear to god we argued about it for weeks."

Emmett laughed, leaning back in his chair. "We both wanted to be fucking Batman, of course! I didn't want to be the squeaky-voiced sidekick."

I shared a knowing look with Alice, smiling at the thought of the cuteness of a third grade Edward and Emmett. I couldn't wait to see pictures of those two as little boys. "So how did you end up deciding who would be Batman?"

Edward rolled his eyes. "Uh, well, we didn't. Even back then we were both pretty damn stubborn, so we both ended up going as Batman."

"We didn't realize at the time that two boys trick-or-treating in matching costumes was gayer than going as Robin could ever be." Emmett laughed good-naturedly.

After our uproarious laughter abated, Emmett continued the Halloween theme. "Here's a good one for ya. When Edward and I were in fourth grade, I couldn't go trick-or-treating because I came down with strep throat."

I glanced at Edward. His looked down at his plate, mindlessly moving his food around as a bashful smile crept upon his lips.

"When Edward found out I couldn't go trick-or-treating with him, he absolutely refused to go. I remember fighting on the phone with him about it."

His eyes widened, and he shook his head amusedly. "Fuck, it sounds like all we did was fight, doesn't it? Actually, we got along great most of the time."

"Why did you refuse to go, Edward?" I asked, my fingers rubbing circles on his back.

"I dunno," Edward mumbled, shrugging his shoulders. "I couldn't ever remember a Halloween without Emmett. I knew I wouldn't have any fun."

"But I told him I'd kick his ass if he didn't go and get me some candy!" Emmett bellowed. "I begged him to go without me and get candy for both of us. That finally convinced him."

Alice giggled. "Ahh, that is like the cutest story ever."

Edward smiled, raking his fingers through his hair as he stretched, leaning back in his chair. "Okay, that's enough of the embarrassing childhood stories, I think."

By the time I walked into Edward's room after dinner, my mind was clear, my decision resolute. Edward's sexual history no longer mattered to me. He could tell me he was the biggest man whore in the history of promiscuity, and I'd still choose him. The stories shared during dinner brought into focus the tender soul that is Edward's, and I realized that nothing else mattered. I was reminded that actions don't necessarily define a person. His gentle touches and adoring gazes told me that I was the only one he wanted, and I'd just have to trust that this would always be the case.

After slipping off my shoes, I crept across the bed and sat in the middle. I asked Edward to join me, telling him we needed to talk. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he pulled off his shoes before leaning back against the headboard, crossing his outstretched legs. He reached for my hand, his countenance apprehensive.

"I'm sorry if I sounded judgmental today. You know . . . about the man whore thing. At first, I admit, the thought that we might be talking about you and not Emmett . . . well, it bothered me."

I absentmindedly stroked each finger on his hand, and then pressed my palm to his as I stammered through my jumbled thoughts. "But I've had time to think about it, and I don't care about your sexual history, Edward. All that matters to me is that it is _history_, that you don't want that lifestyle anymore?" It came out as a question, and I looked up at him for an answer.

He gave me his signature crooked smile, his eyes warm and radiant. "You're remarkable, Bella Swan." His deep voice was calm and soothing. "I don't deserve you . . . but I want you anyway."

He sat up, maneuvering his body around until he faced me. He copied my position, sitting Indian-style in the middle of the bed. Holding my hands in his, he looked me straight in the eye. "Bella, you didn't say anything wrong earlier today. I overreacted because I was afraid that you'd think I was a man whore if you knew my past, even though I honestly don't think I was. I was worried you wouldn't want me. I want to be everything you need, everything that you deserve."

"You are." I broke my hands free of his, settling my palms on his cheeks. I pulled his mouth to mine, kissing him hard. "You . . . are . . . everything," I whispered between each kiss.

His hands covered mine, pulling them away from his face. "Baby, wait." He smiled. "I need to say some things. You said it doesn't matter to you anymore, and, god, I love that you feel that way, but I think I should tell you some things. You're probably thinking it was worse than it actually was."

"Okay then."

"I've had only one long-term relationship–Tanya. We met at Columbia at the start of my senior year. After graduation, she moved to Seattle so we could be together. I started working at my family's company, and we moved in together. Life was good." He shrugged. "But then 9/11 happened."

He paused, sighing. "I couldn't get it out of my head. Suddenly, the work I was doing at C.I. seemed ridiculously unimportant. I enlisted in January 2002 and left for boot camp that summer. Tanya was furious."

"How furious? She broke it off?" I interrupted.

Edward shook his head. "No, not then. She didn't support my decision, but she didn't break up with me. She waited to do that until right after I was deployed to Afghanistan. She did it with the clichéd 'Dear John' letter."

"Oh god, no. Edward, I'm so sorry. That's . . . that's just so wrong."

He chuckled sardonically. "Well, at least she was nice enough to wait until after Christmas to send it."

"That must have been really hard for you."

"I really don't blame her, but, yeah, it was pretty difficult for a while."

"You loved her?"

"Yes."

"Thank you for telling me."

"You're welcome, but I'm not finished." He smirked. "Like I said, I think you might be thinking the absolute worst. Since Tanya, I've stayed away from relationships. Most of that time, I was in a war zone or on a military base."

He paused, looking down at our joined hands. "Have I had some one night stands over the years? Yes. Fuck, Bella, I was in the military, and I don't know of any man that's going to go without sex for four years."

I nodded my head, snorting at his candor. He looked at me, relaxing his tensed expression when he saw that I wasn't upset about his admission.

"But I never used anybody any more than they were using me. I was always clear that I didn't want anything more, and they were fine with that. I honestly don't think casual sex is wrong as long as you're not taking advantage of or hurting the other person. But with you, Bella–that night in Munich? I knew you wanted and deserved more than a one-night stand."

He pressed my fingertips to his lips, slowly kissing each one softly. "That's why I couldn't," he continued. "I didn't want to use you that way."

I was relieved, but I felt like a schmuck for thinking poorly of him. Yes, he'd had random, meaningless sex, but he hadn't gone about it recklessly. I should have known better than to think that his gentle soul would ever allow him to conduct his life thoughtlessly. It just wasn't who he was–he was genuinely kind-hearted and compassionate. Certainly, I'd seen moments when those innate qualities were smothered by his post-traumatic stress disorder, and he temporarily became somebody he was not.

"You're the one who's remarkable, Edward," I said quietly, stroking his scratchy jaw.

He smiled a big toothy grin and leaned in to me, squeezing my hips as he rested his lips on my mouth. They glided silkily against mine, slowly and tenderly.

When he stopped kissing me, he crawled off the bed, walking toward his duffel bag. "I have something for you," he announced, rummaging through it.

"You do?" I squealed, smiling broadly as if it was Christmas morning.

He returned with a white, square box, resuming his previous position on the bed. "Sorry I couldn't wrap it," he muttered, sitting the box between us. "Go ahead. Please open it."

He didn't have to ask twice. I excitedly pulled back the flaps of the package, gasping when I saw the contents. I lifted it out very carefully, turning it in my hands to observe every detail. It was a delicate figurine of a swan with its wings outstretched.

"Oh, Edward, it's beautiful . . . just perfect."

"I know how much you love them, and I wanted you to have something tangible to remind you of our time here together."

"As if I could ever forget," I said breathily, leaning into him and kissing him sweetly. "Thank you . . . _so_ much."

"You're welcome, my beautiful swan." He chuckled, and I giggled, high on the moment.

"I'm curious–when and where did you buy this? We've been together almost constantly."

"Well, I can be quite stealthy when I need to be." He chuckled with a glint of naughtiness in his eyes. "I bought it in Bath."

"I have something for you, too, but it's in my room. I'll give it to you in the morning?"

"Okay." He smiled softly, his stare smoldering.

"But, uh, I do have something else for you . . . um, that you can have right now if you want it," I said, my head tilted down. I lifted my eyes, coyly glancing at him through my lashes.

His mouth twisted as if squelching a grin. "Yeah? And what would that be?"

Slowly, I crawled onto his lap, straddling him. I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, crossing my ankles behind his back. Pressing my breasts against his chest, my hands delved into his soft hair. I placed gentle kisses on his forehead, his temple, his cheek, and then purred into his ear. "Me."

He slowly tugged at the hem of my shirt, lifting it over my head. Eyes locked on eyes, he lifted his arms as I pulled his shirt off. Piece by piece, we undressed each other, our movements slow and gentle as if time was at our mercy, when in reality, that couldn't be further from the truth. We had mere hours left, our time together vanishing with each tick of the clock.

Freed from our clothing, we lay side by side. Our bodies were fused together, and I shivered with the feel of skin against skin, our legs interwoven, arms wrapped tightly, chest against breasts, and lips mingling together. I don't how long we lay together like this, relishing the intimacy, the energy, the comfort of molding to one another. We kissed languidly, fingers caressing, and hearts bursting.

"I don't want to stop kissing this luscious mouth," he mumbled, his tongue sliding across my lip. "But I don't think you'll object if I kiss you somewhere else." He grinned as he began crawling down the length of my body, licking and sucking his way down.

Kneeling on the floor, he pulled me closer to the edge of the bed. He left wet kisses on my stomach, licking and sucking along my hip bone, and then he pushed my legs apart.

"I've been going mad all day remembering the taste of you on my fingers," he divulged, his voice low, dripping with want as he ran his hands along my inner thighs.

He nuzzled his whiskered jaw against my thigh, his mouth excruciatingly close to where I wanted it. I felt puffs of warm breath waft across my pussy as his nose skimmed my clit. I whimpered, but he only grazed over it, instead sucking the skin just above. His tongue and lips trailed down along the juncture at the joint of my inner leg, nipping at that sensitive skin, and mere inches from my wet folds.

After he'd explored every bit of skin except for the flesh that was throbbing for him, I felt I might go mad with unmet want. "For the love of fuck, Edward! Pleease," I begged, panting deliriously.

"Finally . . . that's what I was waiting for," he said amusedly. "As you wish."

Without warning, without a touch of his fingers, without an introductory lick, his heavenly tongue darted into my pussy. "Ahhh . . . fuck . . . mm, Edd – waard." He thrust his tongue in and out, twirling it inside me each time. My blood seemed to boil beneath my skin, my legs quivered, and I couldn't control the carnal urge to thrust my pelvis against his face.

His tongue delivered one long and languid lick from my opening all the way up–almost to my clit–but not quite. "Aaarggh," I cried in delicious frustration. My hands balled up into fists, and I clenched the sheets, pulling at them wildly.

He chuckled as he licked and sucked my most delicate parts. "Mmmm," he moaned. "You taste so good, baby." He licked me again. "I could stay here for hours."

"No, nooo . . . not hours."

He laughed again, and then he closed his soft lips around my clit and sucked gently. I screamed out, releasing the sheets and digging my fingers into his head. His tongue flicked against my clit faster than I thought humanly possible with his lips suctioned tightly, and when he slid one finger inside my pussy, I ignited.

My entire body tightened and convulsed as an intense explosion of pleasure detonated at that spot, creating hot embers of ecstasy in every cell. My breathing was erratic and I writhed, my hands clutching Edward's head, holding him tightly against me. "Ahh, fuck, fuuuck . . . Edward, yess."

As soon as my limbs relaxed, he slithered up my body, both of us shimmering with sweat. He straddled me on his hands and knees, kissing me hungrily. "Turn over, Bella Baby," he instructed after breaking the kiss.

I complied, rolling onto my stomach. His hands rested on my hips and he pulled me upwards until I was on my hands and knees. He pushed my legs apart, kneeling between them. Leaning over me, he moved my hair to the side and pressed his lips to my back. His fingers teased my nipple while his other hand held his cock, rubbing the head along my wet folds. "So beautiful," Edward whispered.

I gasped when he slid just the tip of his erection into me, remaining motionless for a moment. Suddenly, he pushed completely into me, eliciting guttural moans from us both. His mouth nipped at my back, making me quiver beneath him.

He gently nudged me down, silently guiding me until I lay completely flat against the mattress. His entire body blanketed mine–I was pinned, unable to move. He held his weight on his forearms as his chest pressed against my back, and he began thrusting, long and slow. He continued his pace, sliding in and out of me so slowly that I could feel every inch of his cock stroking my sensitive inner walls.

His lips found my neck, and he placed soft kisses along it. He licked his way along my jaw line and then placed a kiss on the corner of my mouth. I lifted my head from the mattress, turning it to the side as far as I could. He latched his open mouth to mine and hummed my pleasure as our tongues glided together, lips sucking, and teeth nibbling.

His unhurried pace remained the same, but his thrusts became more forceful. Edward's forearm rested on the mattress next to my face. I lifted my head, quivering with lust when I saw the muscles in his upper arm bulging, bearing his weight. I twisted my upper body and trailed wet kisses up his arm, sucking and nibbling his warm, salty muscled skin.

I felt like I was having an out of body experience, as though we had been suspended outside of time. Normally, even when I'm fully enjoying the physical sensations of sex, I find myself constantly thinking. I'm too much in my head, my thoughts all over the place: _I wonder if he'd like it if I did this; Hurry up and come already, Bella . . . it's taking forever; Oh, I need to remember to drop off my dry cleaning._

With Edward, in that moment, with the sensation of his beautiful body on me and in me and the feel of his skin on my tongue as I sucked on his muscular arm, my inner voice fell silent. I only felt; I was completely present in the moment. I was in ecstasy–not the kind where you cry out in orgasm while being fucked hard. It was an ecstasy I didn't even know existed. Time seemed to come to a halt, and I floated in lingering bliss. I'd never before felt so connected–so at one–with another human being. Everything was in slow motion, so still, nearly dreamlike.

Edward moved his arms, covering my hands that were splayed on the mattress above my head. He laced his fingers with mine, thrusting harder, groaning and breathing heavily against my ear. The slow burn kindled, and sweet spasms erupted, slowly rolling over me and lingering. It shook me to my center, and my hands squeezed Edward's as I whimpered and cried softly.

He plunged into me twice more, and then his body became rigid atop mine. He clamped his mouth to my shoulder, sucking before biting down and grunting wildly as he climaxed.

I awoke the next morning to the sound of the shower running. Edward was no longer beside me, and I rubbed my eyes before glancing at the clock. I quickly calculated that I had to be ready to leave for the airport in two hours. That didn't leave much time for "the talk" that we'd been putting off–the one about our future. I couldn't wait to see his smile when I told him I'd be moving to Seattle soon to be with him, but I dreaded the moment I'd have to say goodbye and get into a cab, leaving him behind.

The turning of a doorknob stirred me, and I looked over to see an angel in white walking out of the bathroom. He smiled, rubbing his wet hair with a white towel, another one slung low around his hips. "Good morning, beautiful."

"Uh-uh . . . _you're_ beautiful. I know you hate that, but you just are."

Errant beads of water glistened on his chest, and I cursed the fact that I didn't have time to yank that towel off and hop on.

He smirked, sauntering toward the bed. Leaning down, he kissed my lips. "We need to talk."

"I know," I agreed, kissing him again.

He pulled away and walked over to his duffel bag. "We probably should be dressed to have this talk, or we may not get much talking done." He glanced back at me and winked before pulling some clothes out of his bag.

"Ya got that right." Snickering, I got up and quickly gathered my clothes off the floor before slipping into the bathroom.

Five minutes later, I emerged to find Edward sitting on the edge of the bed, fully dressed.

"C'mere." He patted the bed beside him.

I sat down, drawing my leg up and turning to face him.

"Well, I'm just going to get right to it since you don't have much time to get showered and packed." He paused, clearing his throat.

"Bella, if you'll have me, I want to come to Phoenix so I can spend as much time with you as possible. Emmett and I fly home in a week, and then I'll need about a week or so to tie up some loose ends. So I'm thinking I could be there in as soon as two weeks."

I could barely believe what I was hearing. Why would he leave Seattle and abandon a prestigious career at Cullen Industries? Not to mention, he'd be leaving his entire family and Emmett.

"What?" I asked incredulously. "You want to move to Phoenix?"

Edward nodded, smiling sheepishly. "It's the only thing that makes sense. Bella, I know this is all happening kind of fast, but since I don't have much time left, I want to spend every minute with you before I deploy."

The last word he spoke hung in the air, heavy and foreign, out of place as I struggled to process it. _Deploy? Deploy._

Edward stared at me, waiting for my response. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I felt like I'd been plunged into a frozen lake, and now all my systems were failing. My brain was scrambled and my thoughts disoriented. It was all horribly familiar; the shocking surreality of this moment reminded me of _that_ life-changing day. _"I've decided that I'm leaving you. You can have all the money in our account and anything in the apartment you want."_ Jacob's devastating words pounded in my head.

"Bella?" Edward prompted, shaking me from my bewildered state.

When I finally found my voice, the words spilled out rapidly as I was eager for an explanation to settle my panicked heart. "Deploy? What are you talking about, Edward?" I shook my head, laughing humorlessly. "You aren't in the Army anymore. I read the article–you were discharged last year."

Edward's eyes widened, his mouth fell open, and he stared at me with nothing less than horror etched in his features. "Fuck!" he hissed, burying his face in his hands. "No, no, no."

"Edward, you're scaring me!" I jumped from the bed and began pacing, unable to contain the nervous energy pulsing through me.

Frantically running my hands through my hair, I shouted, "What the hell is going on?"

He lifted his head from the protecting veil of his hands. Meeting my gaze, his face twisted in pain. "I thought you knew," he muttered, his tone dripping in regret. "When I told you I couldn't do a relationship, you said you _knew_, that Emmett told you, and that it was okay. I just assumed he told you _everything_."

"Everything?" I whispered, fear gripping my vocal chords. Without warning, fear morphed into anger because I knew perfectly well what deploy meant. It just didn't make any sense in the context of Edward and me. "What the fuck is _everything_?" I snapped.

"I never meant to keep it from you. I'm so, so sorry, Bella." Sitting on the bed, he hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees. His hand tangled in his hair as he mumbled to the floor. "You have to believe me that I thought Emmett told you. I thought you had accepted it."

He sighed heavily before sitting up straight. He looked up at me, his voice firm and resolved. "Bella, I reenlisted in the Army just before I came to Europe. I report for duty in four months."

I gasped. "No . . . _no_," I whispered hoarsely, my throat tightening.

* * *

**A/N: **slowly backing out of the room and ducking for cover** I told ya'all there was more to Edward's reluctance to getting into a relationship besides his PTSD. I wasn't kidding when I gave you that hint. **

**I wish I could take credit, but all credit goes to the euphemistically-talented MANDALIZ for the "lady garden" term as well as this line - "This man is pure unadulterated lust packed into a long, tall bottle of sexy.**

**To see pictures that accompany each chapter, including this one, visit one of the following:**

**Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. **

**For photos and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL - **

**/groups/281151482005898/**

**Then request to be added to the group. **


	17. A Lifetime of Days

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: My betas, Pickwicksociety, JenKB, and GuitarGirl, worked overtime on this chapter, offering me much appreciated opinions on the very pivotal plot development that takes place. Not everyone agreed on everything, but I hope that they all know that I value each of them, and that I seriously weighed everyone's advice. Ultimately, I went with my gut, letting the characters guide me. **

**And big thanks and appreciation to Mel/mcc101180 for spiffying this chapter up.**

* * *

_"I never meant to keep it from you. I'm so, so sorry, Bella." Sitting on the bed, he hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees. His hand tangled in his hair as he mumbled to the floor. "You have to believe me that I thought Emmett told you. I thought you had accepted it."_

_He sighed heavily before sitting up straight. He looked up at me, his voice firm and resolved. "Bella, I reenlisted in the Army just before I came to Europe. I report for duty in four months."_

_I gasped. _

_"No . . . no," I whispered hoarsely, my throat tightening._

_****__Chapter 17 – A Lifetime of Days_

I felt my head shaking back and forth, willing his words to be false, but I couldn't manage to form a sentence. I stood stock-still, utterly shell-shocked as my grand plan to begin a new life with Edward in Seattle disintegrated instantaneously. The pulverized remnants of that dream were now quicksand at my feet, pulling me down to a dark and familiar place.

Edward's pained face was hazy through the pools of liquid filling my eyes, and as I cast my gaze away from him, the tears quietly spilled over. Dazed, I was unaware he'd left his perch on the bed until I felt his hands on my hips, pulling me flush against his body.

"Bella." My arms hung limply as he pressed my cheek to his chest, his fingers stroking my hair comfortingly.

But I wasn't comforted. Nothing could comfort me now, except for him to take back that word–_deploy_. That word was a strangling vise around my chest, slowly suffocating me with all its potential for devastation and death. It just couldn't be true–it _couldn't_ be. Maybe he was just assuming that he would be deployed. Maybe, if he requested it, they would station him in the States since he'd already served more than his share of time in Iraq.

My mouth was dry; I swallowed thickly, trying to find my voice. "Is there any chance they won't send you back to Iraq?" I mumbled into his shirt. "Maybe you could be stationed at a base in the U.S.?"

Gripping my shoulders, he drew back slightly to look at me, but I couldn't bear to see his eyes, the eyes that I wouldn't be able to look into for god knows how long, the same eyes that were now in danger of closing forever in the god-forsaken, Middle East desert. I cringed, scrunching my eyes closed as the thought preyed on my worst fears.

"No, Bella, there's no chance at all that I'd be stationed in the States." His voice was low and regretful. "I have extensive combat experience. Plus, my rank is captain. They need combat-ready leaders like me. So I'll definitely be deployed."

I sucked in a sharp breath as a movie of my own making played across my mind's eye. I saw Edward covering James' body with his own as mortar rounds fell around him. I glimpsed him running and shooting wildly before ducking for cover, fire burning all around. And then there he was on the ground, wounded and bleeding. I'd read Emmett's article about Edward so many times, and now, like sound bites, the words hissed around me, working me into a furious frenzy of fear.

_"He ran into the kill zone." "…enemy mortar rounds falling directly on his position." "…the ground around him being peppered with AK-47 rounds." _

It seemed like I could hear my heart pounding loudly in my ears. Blood began boiling beneath my skin, and my teeth clenched along with my fists hanging at my side. My body tensed as fury overtook me, replacing the shock and denial I'd felt just seconds ago. I pushed against Edward's arms, freeing myself from his embrace.

"So you reenlisted when you _knew_ that meant you'd be sent back to the place you barely escaped alive? I don't understand, Edward!" My voice became louder as panic overcame me. "Why would you do such a thing? Do you have a fucking death wish?"

His eyebrows drew together, and he pursed his lips. "No, Bella, I don't." He was strangely calm, his tone tempered.

He exhaled heavily, scrubbing his hands over his whiskers. "When I was discharged, I went back to work at my family's company. I tried to resume my life. But it was just like it had been before–my work seemed so pointless. I just couldn't get into it . . . or into my life. All I could think about were my soldiers who I'd left behind. I mean, why the fuck should I be here, living the good life when they're still there . . . and when so many came back in a box? I had nobody important in my life, so why the fuck not go back and do something that I'm good at, something that matters?"

He turned away, his hands wildly pulling at his hair before pivoting back toward me again. "Fuck, Bella! If I'd met you a few months ago, I probably wouldn't have done it. I don't know . . . I mean, I would've still had a hard time knowing I left my guys behind, but I wouldn't have wanted to hurt you either by reenlisting." His words spewed forcefully; he wasn't yelling, but his tone was firm and slightly flustered. "But I can't take it back, no matter how much I wish I could."

"Why should _you_ be living the good life when they're still there? _Really_?" I was reeling, incredulous, and my words dripped sarcasm. "How about because you already did your time? How many fucking tours did you do anyway? Like three? And you're already tortured by your memories and your nightmares. How could you willingly go back to that?"

I toed the carpet, eyes down, nibbling anxiously at my fingernail. In my peripheral vision, I saw Edward walk to the bed and sit down. Warily, I glanced up. His eyes were tightly closed, and his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose as if he had a headache.

"I've never really left," he confessed somberly, his eyes still clenched shut. "I'm there in my head all the time anyway, so I figured what's the difference? I might as well be there . . . helping." Finally, he looked up at me with eyes that were heavy and dull.

"The difference is that _here_ you are safe . . . and _there_–"

I threw my hands in the air in frustration, laughing bitterly, unable to say the words.

"In all the time we've spent together, how did this never come up? I would think that just in casual conversation it would have been mentioned."

"Bella! I tried to talk to you about everything that first night when I came to your college to find you. I said we should talk about how we could make this work. You said you didn't want to deal with it until right before you left for Phoenix. _That's_ why I haven't mentioned it even casually. Plus, like I said, I thought Emmett told you and that you'd accepted it."

"Emmett told me that Iraq fucked you up and that I'd have to deal with that bullshit! He didn't say shit about you reenlisting."

Rage was rolling off of me in waves. I was furious that I'd allowed myself to be vulnerable again. I was outraged that life was serving me another heaping dose of loss, wrenching all control of my own life away from me.

"Bella," he said softly. "I know it will be difficult for you–for both of us–but lots of soldiers have wives and girlfriends. I'll have leave time. It's not like I'll be gone the entire three years. We can make this work."

"It's also possible, even likely, that a soldier will appear on your parents' doorstep delivering a condolence letter." My chest seized as I said the horrific words, and I tried to stifle the tidal wave of grief falling down upon me. "I can't"–I gasped–"I can't." I began crying uncontrollably. "It's . . . too much . . . Edward." I sputtered the words between gasps and sobs.

"What are you saying exactly, Bella? You don't want this? You don't want . . . me?" His sorrowful eyes held steady on mine, and I had to look away.

"Not like this," I mumbled into my hands, wiping at the steady stream of tears. "Not with you in fucking Iraq, throwing yourself in the line of fire to save other soldiers."

I weaved my fingers in my hair, grasping for something real to hold onto as Edward slipped through my fingers and out of my life. Taking deep breaths, I tried to slow my rapid breathing and stop my tears.

Sighing deeply, my voice trembled as I said the words that I hated, even as they passed over my lips. "You were right all along, Edward . . . when you said it was too much to ask of anybody. I can't become like James' wife. I know what it's like to have someone ripped from your life so abruptly, so unexpectedly. I can't"–I covered my mouth attempting to hold back a sob but failing–"can't . . . go through that again."

Our eyes met, and we held the gaze for several moments, allowing the truth to settle upon us, slowly wrapping our minds around the meaning of my words.

"I . . . uh." He cleared his throat. "I understand." Edward looked away, his jaw clenching and unclenching while his eyes focused on his feet. "I told you I was a selfish fuck when I came back to find you–I was right. I had no right to expect you to wait around for me."

"I'm so sorry, Edward. I'm sorry I'm not strong enough." I crossed the small room and stood in front of him.

He was hunched over again, his elbows resting on his knees with his hands clasped together. I wanted to hold him one last time, to sear into my memory the feeling of his arms around me and the sweetness of his lips. Soon, my memories would be all I'd have left. I put my hand on his shoulder, rubbing it gently. "Edward?"

He breathed in quickly, his hands flying up and covering his face. "Please, Bella . . . go. Just go." He didn't sound like himself, his voice strained and cracking. His hands traveled from his face to his hair, clenching tightly, but I still couldn't see his face as his head was completely bowed.

I swallowed hard and pulled my hand away, feeling the sting of rejection. He didn't want to hold me one last time. Then I remembered that, in fact, I was the one rejecting him. What did I expect?

I looked at him, bent over, silently hiding behind his hands. I was a horrible person to hurt him this way, and he was clearly in pain. But so was I. And I could never again be subjected to the kind of loss I'd gone through when Jacob disappeared from my life. My primal "survival of the fittest" instincts were at play; I had to protect myself. And so I ran. I ran from Edward's room, and by the time I arrived in my own, the endless supply of tears began once more.

Sometime later, I found myself on the bed in the fetal position, wrapped in Alice's arms, my tears having ceased but whimpers still escaping. Alice was nearly as dumbfounded as I was, rambling on about how she was going to kick Emmett's ass for having never said anything to her about Edward's reenlistment.

She led me to the bathroom and turned on the shower, instructing me to get in and out quickly since we had to leave for the airport in an hour. "I'll pack your things for you. Don't worry," she said, closing the door.

I stripped quickly, stepping under the hot water. I closed my eyes, trying to focus on the pummeling drops, hoping they would ease my tension. But images of him and the devastation on his face inundated my consciousness. _"You don't want me?"_ he'd said. My god, did he really think that? Of course, I wanted him. That's why I was so fucking upset. He seemed to think I had a choice, but I couldn't exactly have him if he was in Iraq more often than he was with me. And I couldn't have him if he got himself killed, which was highly probable. He seemed to think he had nine fucking lives at his disposal.

I groaned in frustration when I felt tears welling up again. I inhaled deeply and then breathed out very slowly, stopping the flow. I ducked my face under the waterfall, allowing the drops to wash away the physical evidence of my pain. Quickly, I soaped down my body and shampooed my hair.

As I was toweling off, Alice knocked, cracking open the door. "Here's some clean clothes," she said, sticking her arm through the narrow opening. I snatched the clothing from her hand, mumbling my thanks.

Knowing we were short on time, I dressed as fast as I could, but my limbs felt heavy and cumbersome. After brushing my teeth, I retrieved a comb from my toiletry bag. As I combed through the tangles in my hair, my breathing hitched, startled by what I saw reflected in the mirror. I looked like shit. My face was red and blotchy, and the skin around my eyes was swollen and puffy. Slowly, I parted my hair, combing through it again, simply not having the energy to bother with drying it.

After gathering my toiletries from the counter, I opened the door, heading towards my luggage to unload my hands when I heard a male voice.

Startled, I turned to see Emmett and Alice standing by the door, both of them staring at me. Just fantastic–Emmett was the second to last person I wanted to see right now. I was almost as furious with him as I was with Edward, and nothing he could say to me would change anything. Hopefully, he was only here to say goodbye to Alice and would leave me alone.

"Em," I mumbled, continuing across the room to my bags. I jammed my toiletry bag in, and then I pretended to be grossly occupied with my luggage, rearranging the clothes that Alice had already packed. I was hyper-aware of their low voices across the room, and when I couldn't fake packing any longer, I plopped on the bed to put on my socks and shoes.

As soon as I sat down, Emmett came over and sat next to me, but I kept my hands and eyes busy with my shoes. Unwilling to look in his direction, I hadn't noticed that he was holding something until he moved it into my line of sight. My busy fingers stilled when I saw a familiar white box cradled in his hands.

"Edward asked me to give this to you. He said you forgot it in his room." I'd never heard Emmett's voice so somber.

"Um, I . . . I can't. It was too expensive." It was one thing to accept a pricey gift from Edward when we were together, a couple. Now, it just seemed wrong to keep it.

"Bella, please don't make me take this back to him. That will just hurt him even more." He took hold of my hand, setting the box in my open palm. "He still wants you to have it."

It would just hurt him even more? Why did I feel like the bad guy here? I sighed heavily, knowing that though I hadn't done anything wrong, I felt guilty because Edward was unhappy. He was hurting because of my choice to end this thing before I got in any deeper with him, and I didn't want to hurt him any further.

"Fine," I huffed, gripping the box as I stood and walked over to my luggage. While trying to make room in my suitcase for the box, I remembered the book I'd bought for Edward when we were in Stratford. I had told him last night that I'd give it to him this morning. I'd almost forgotten about it, being so consumed with the shocking turn of events.

I retrieved it from the exterior zipper on my suitcase, flipping to the front page where I'd already written a personal note to him. I read my words, contemplating whether I should still give it to him.

_**March 19, 2007**_

_**Dear Mr. Edward Cullen, **_

_**Throughout all the times (too many to count) that I've read Pride and Prejudice, reveling in the intelligence, passion and devotion of the protagonist, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, I never dared to dream that there could be a living, breathing incarnation of him–until I met you. Because of you, I see myself and the world through brand-new eyes, never before aware of the magnificent possibilities in this existence we call humanity. **_

_**With affection,**_

_**Miss Bella Swan**_

I kept my back to Emmett and Alice, discreetly wiping away a tear.

Determining that what I'd written a few days ago was all still true, I turned to Emmett. "Um, I need you to give this to Edward for me, but I need just a minute first."

Emmett nodded. "Sure, Bella."

I quickly dug a pen out of my purse. Sitting on the bed, I placed the book on the nightstand, writing a final message to Edward just below the first one:

_**March 22, 2007**_

_"__**Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure."**_

_**-Elizabeth Bennett**_

I hoped that with time Edward and I would both be able to follow Elizabeth's advice, remembering our time together with pleasure, letting the pain of today fall away. But right now there was only pain . . . and guilt. I felt like I was deserting him, but wasn't it the other way around? He was abandoning me, or at least he would be when he left to go fight in a fucking war.

"You'll make sure he gets this?" I held the book out to Emmett. He took it, assuring me he would give it to Edward right away.

"Thanks," I whispered, playing distractedly with the pen in my hands.

"Bella, I need you to understand something." He sat on the edge of the bed, angling himself toward me. "You're probably wondering why I never said anything about Edward reenlisting. The truth is that the first time you and I talked privately at Neuschwanstein Castle there just wasn't much time to get into everything. We were in the middle of a tour, whispering, and I just wanted to quickly give you the heads up that he has some issues.

"Then, after that . . . well, you guys spent so much time alone together, I just fucking assumed Edward would have told you, that it would have come up." He reached over and squeezed my hand. "I am so sorry, Bella."

"That makes sense, I guess." I hunched over, resting my elbow on my knee and wearily dropped my head onto my hand, letting my hair fall around my face.

"And it wasn't your responsibility to tell me anyway," I mumbled. I needed somebody to direct my anger toward, but it really wasn't Emmett's fault. Besides, it was impossible to stay mad at him. He always radiated this ridiculous amount of positive energy and love that my anger just couldn't stand up against.

"Edward wasn't trying to deceive you. You know that, right?" Just hearing Edward's name made my stomach clench with anger and longing.

Emmett brushed my hair away from my face and leaned in front of me, trying to get me to look at him. "Bella, it was all just a big clusterfuck of miscommunication."

I sucked in a breath and nodded slowly.

Emmett stood up, sighing heavily. "Well, I should probably go. Bella, um, well . . . I wish you all the best."

I jumped up and wrapped my arms around his broad shoulders. He chuckled, squeezing me so tightly that I squealed. "Goodbye, Em."

He really was a great guy, and I was relieved to feel the hostility I'd felt toward him only moments before melt away.

He released me and walked to the door with Alice following behind. I busied myself by packing a few personal items still lying about the room, attempting to give them some privacy. But being a small room, fragments of their whispered words carried over to me–". . . _he's giving up . . . fight for her . . . selfish to try to keep her . . . killing him_ . . ."

I hurried into the bathroom, desperately needing to block out their voices. I just couldn't hear that right now. I sat on the toilet seat and sobbed. I cried for Edward's pain, and I cried for my own. After several minutes, my breathing slowed, and I grabbed some tissues, wiping my face and blowing my nose. I really needed to stop the waterworks because my head was pounding relentlessly, and I could barely breathe through my stuffed nose.

Two hours later, Alice and I boarded the plane that would take us back to reality, away from England and away from Edward. Just the whisper of his name in my head stirred up emotions.

I pulled out my iPod, shoving my backpack under the seat, and leaned back, as far as you can in an airplane seat, that is. I started my playlist and closed my eyes, remembering his handsome face hovering over me when we'd made love. Remembering his face made me remember his voice–the way he said my name always made me melt; the way his lips brushed against my ear when he sang to me as we danced; and the way he laughed. I'd become addicted to the sound of his laughter–it was like a drug, filling me with a natural high of utter joy.

Fuck–I had to get it together. If I kept this up for the entire trip, I'd be an emotional basket case by the time we arrived in Phoenix. I was due to begin student teaching at a local high school on Monday. I was glad for it; the distraction would be helpful as I worked my way through the stages of grief.

I'd been through this before–loss and grief so consuming that it seems you'll never be right again, where the impossibility of ever being happy again was a lie told by the vacuous feeling of loss. Cerebrally, I knew that the pain would lessen with time, but for now, I'd have to endure the crushing anguish, passing through each healing stage. It was better for it to happen now–only a week into our relationship–rather than months or years down the road when losing him would be far more devastating, having become more entrenched in one another's lives, having fallen more in love with him. _This way is better_, I told myself over and over.

Alice squeezed my hand, jolting me from my self-inflicted mental torture. I opened my eyes, and she pointed to the flight attendant who was taking drink orders. I most definitely needed a drink. I asked for a Blood Mary, hoping the vodka would help me to relax and fall asleep.

"Alcohol during the day?" Alice quirked a brow. "That's very un-Bella like."

I snorted, letting out a bitter chuckle. "Yeah, well, if you hadn't noticed, I'm not exactly my normal self today."

"Bella, it's not too late to change your mind. Are you sure this is what you want?"

My head whipped around, and I glared at her, my mouth hanging open for a moment. "No, it's not what I fucking want! But it's what is necessary."

She didn't say anything else, but I could feel her stare boring into me like I was a bug under a microscope. "Can we just . . . _not_ talk about this right now? I'd rather not have another Niagara Falls meltdown here. We have a long-ass time before we get off this plane."

"Sure. Sorry, Bells."

I tucked the earbuds back in place and closed my eyes again, eagerly awaiting the arrival of my Bloody Mary.

Ten and a half insufferable hours later, we finally touched down at Sky Harbor Airport in Phoenix. I actually felt some second-hand guilt when I spotted Jasper on the other side of security, holding a bouquet of daisies.

As we approached, he scooped Alice into his arms and kissed her, a wide smile on his face as he muttered nonstop about how much he'd missed her. I stood awkwardly to the side until Jasper let her go and turned to me with a smile.

"You look exhausted, darlin'," he said, pulling me into a hug.

"In other words, I look like shit." I smirked, drawing back from his embrace.

He chuckled, grabbing my carry-on from my hand and slinging it over his shoulder. "Women like you and Alice couldn't look like shit even if you tried."

He hoisted Alice's bag on his other shoulder, and we began traversing through the myriad of travelers, following the baggage claim signs.

After thirty minutes of hanging around the baggage carousel, during which I purposefully removed myself from conversation by turning on my iPod, we exited through the sliding glass doors of the terminal.

A temperate desert breeze welcomed me, and I pushed up the sleeves of my sweater, remembering why I loved Phoenix. The mild weather from October through April made the scorching heat of the summer months all worth it.

Following behind Alice and Jasper toward the parking garage, I looked around, allowing my senses to take in the beauty of the palm trees, the clear blue sky, and the feel of the perfectly warm air on my skin.

Phoenix could not possibly be any more dissimilar from London; they were diametrically opposed in every way. The landscape, the climate, the culture, the food–it was mindboggling to me that in just a few hours my life had changed in every way. From cold to warmth; from happiness to sadness; from rolling, green hills to concrete and dust; from fullness to emptiness; from shepherd's pie to tamales; from hopefulness to despair. Life had done it again–violently ripping me out of the driver's seat on the road of my life, taking control and giving me emotional whiplash.

It was a good thing that Jasper drove an SUV with plenty of room for all of our crap; we came home with twice as much as what we had taken. We got everything loaded, and within ten short minutes, we were pulling into the familiar circular, red brick driveway to the house I'd shared with Alice for the past two years.

A surprising sense of calm and relief washed over me; I hadn't realized how much I'd missed our home. I still couldn't believe my good fortune to be able to live in the Alvarado Historic District, a quaint neighborhood in the heart of Phoenix and just a fifteen minute drive to the ASU campus in Tempe.

As I got out of the car, the soothing sound of trickling water called to me. It came from the massive, round bronze fountain on the other side of the driveway, adorning the front yard, green grass surrounding it.

"How does it feel to be home?" Jasper asked neither of us in particular as he opened the back of the vehicle.

"Feels like home," I answered, grabbing as much luggage as I could manage.

Alice begin babbling about how much she had missed our favorite pizza joint, and that she was going to order a pizza immediately.

Pulling my suitcase behind me, I stopped on the porch, digging for the keys in my backpack.

The house was a ranch style, built in the 1920s, yet it also displayed an A frame structure on one end, with paneling reminiscent of the Tudor style architecture I'd seen so much of in England. Its beauty was elegant with a subtle beige color and forest-green shutters, which matched the wall of green hedges that ran the entire length of the house.

I unlocked the door and dropped all my stuff just inside before returning to help with the rest of the bags. As soon as everything was inside, I excused myself to my bedroom.

Shutting the door behind me, I walked straight to my queen-sized bed and collapsed onto the comfy-as-a-cloud mattress. Stretching my arms and legs, I buried my face in my pillow, groaning as the expensive mattress hugged my body. God, how I'd missed my bed!

Alice's mom had personally decorated the entire house, and by the time she was done, it looked like an expensive model home. The gold walls of my room were accented by burnt orange bedding and a matching easy chair. I probably would never have chosen those colors myself, but I had come to really love the warm and comforting décor.

I rolled onto my side, curling into the fetal position. I could so easily fall asleep. Being on London time, my tired eyes were telling me it was bedtime, but it was only mid-afternoon in Phoenix. I needed to quickly get my body acclimated and over the jetlag, so I'd be ready wake up bright and early Monday morning.

After being crammed into a confined space for nearly eleven hours, a hot shower had never sounded so good. I wearily crawled off my bed, hoping it would invigorate me a bit.

After a marathon hot shower, I threw on some comfort clothes–my cut-off gray sweatpants and black tank top. The shower relaxed my muscles, but I was still sleepy, so I decided I should stay away from my bed and find some way to keep myself occupied.

I looked at my pile of luggage and sighed, figuring now was as good a time as any to get unpacked. I began grabbing handfuls of dirty clothing out of my suitcase, throwing them into a pile on the floor. Scooping up more clothes, I froze as I caught sight of the edge of a white box.

Staring at it, I swallowed thickly, gingerly pulling the box out from beneath my dirty shirts. Perched on the edge of my bed, I opened the box and carefully removed the swan figurine. I traced its delicate wings, remembering Edward's sweet face when he'd watched me opening it. I closed my eyes, cradling the swan in my hands, remembering that moment. I'd never imagined he would give me a gift of any kind, and the swan was so personal and thoughtful. I had felt treasured and adored when I first saw it, and even more so when I looked into his eyes.

Remembering all of that made me think about everything that had happened next–his soft lips, his hands, his body on mine, and most of all, the intensity in his eyes when he looked into my own. I sat the swan on my nightstand, drying my wet cheeks with my hands yet again.

"Bells! Pizza's here!" For a little thing, Alice had a powerful set of lungs, her voice carrying into my room even with the door shut.

I joined Alice and Jasper in the living room, plopping on the white leather sectional. "Thanks, guys." My voice came out flat and melancholy; I was a pathetic actress.

Jasper shoved a paper plate in my hands. "Dig in, sweetheart."

"Jasper opened a bottle of red wine, but I also had them bring a two-liter of Diet Coke with the pizza. What's your poison?" Alice bit into her slice.

"Um, wine would put me into a coma about now, I think. Definitely the caffeine, but I can get it."

Alice nodded, her mouth busy chewing, and I padded off to the kitchen.

I found the biggest glass in the cupboard, loading it up with ice and soda.

As I turned to leave, the daisies on the counter caught my eye. God, I really felt for Alice and the torturous decision she would have to make soon. Jasper was such a sweetheart, and I knew he would be completely broken-hearted if she ended their relationship.

I returned to the living room, settling back onto the sofa where Alice was in the middle of telling Jasper about our pickpocketing fiasco in Rome. As I reached out to grab a piece of pizza from the box that was sitting atop the square ottoman, I saw a flash of the pizza on the coffee table in Edward's hotel room in Florence. I glanced up at the wine glass dangling between Jasper's fingers, and I was flooded with memories of that night with Edward.

We had eaten the most divine pizza with fine Italian wine, laughing hysterically while we quoted Jim Carrey lines. That was the first night that we had been intimate–not sex, but dry humping to the point of orgasm was pretty intimate in my book. It was also the same night that I'd cried myself to sleep after he'd said he couldn't get into a relationship, not because of his PTSD issues like I'd assumed, but because of his upcoming deployment.

On that night, the sadness of thinking I'd never see Edward again had been nothing compared to how bereft I felt now. This realization only reinforced my decision–it was far less painful to lose Edward now rather than later.

I mentally pushed him from my mind, focusing on the chatter flowing around me. Alice had moved from the pickpocket incident to the crazy subway guy story.

"He was moving in on Bella, so I ripped him a new one." Alice shrugged, taking a sip of wine.

"What?" Jasper huffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "He could have been violent, Al. Fuck!"

"Really, Jasper, you can't honestly be surprised." I looked at him, my brow cocked. "You've seen her go ape shit with assholes more times than I can count."

"Well, yeah, but not in a foreign country so far away from home. Goddamn!" He gave Alice a chastising glare.

She just smirked, happily chewing her pizza.

"Actually, it was pretty spectacular, Jasper. She scared the living shit out of him." I winked at Alice, causing her to giggle.

"Ahh, good times, Bella, good times," she said, already sounding all nostalgic.

I forced myself to take another bite of pizza, but I had no appetite. I'd joined them for dinner just to be polite, not because I was hungry. Jasper and I were friends, and he would have thought it was odd if had holed up in my room after not having seen him for two months. I chewed, but I couldn't seem to swallow. There was nothing wrong with the pizza–it was all me. I knew this because it was horrifyingly familiar.

After Jacob walked out on me, I'd lost about ten pounds in the week that followed. It wasn't just that I didn't _feel_ like eating; it was more like I literally _couldn't_. No matter what I put in my mouth, it was as difficult as trying to chew and swallow cardboard. More times than not, I'd end up puking a few minutes later. Not only did my heart and mind grieve, but my physical body did as well, seemingly shutting down and refusing nourishment.

I laboriously chewed as I looked from Alice to Jasper. He was sitting on the end of the sectional while Alice sat on the opposite side. I was in the middle. Yeah, that just wasn't right. If I hadn't seen the man I was in love with for two months, I'd probably be perched on his lap while eating my pizza. If Edward was here, that's where I'd be.

I choked down the food in my mouth and headed to the kitchen where I threw away the remaining half of my slice. I refilled my cup, and then passed through the living room, telling Jasper and Alice that I needed to call my mom. I really did need to call my mom, but it also worked as an excuse to be alone.

Back inside my haven, I unplugged my cell phone from the charger sitting on my dresser where I'd left it in January. I stretched out on the bed, staring at my phone. I always had to mentally prepare myself to talk to my mom. I had to be ready for any version of her that might answer. She could ramble on non-stop all about herself, never even responding to anything I said. When she's like that, I feel like I'm invisible. Or she could be somewhat normal and actually listen to at least a portion of what I said, but even then, her responses were usually irrational or grandiose. If I didn't call her, I'd never hear the end of it, and I really wanted to know if Seth had turned up during the past few weeks since the email she had sent me. I sucked in a deep breath and pushed the speed dial button.

"Bella?" My mom's voice came through the phone.

"Yep, it's me. Um, I just got back in town a little while ago."

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm so glad you're home."

"Yeah, it's good to be back. Um, so I thought I'd come see you and Phil tomorrow."

"I'm going to the doctor tomorrow. My sinuses are bothering me, and I want to get it checked out. Oh, and you know that doctor who gave me those pills for my knee? Well, they haven't been working. I'm going to go to a different doctor tomorrow, and I'll ask him about my knee, too."

Ahh, how I had missed this! Yes, that comment was heavy-laden with sarcasm, in case you missed it. I held the phone away from my ear, willing myself to be patient. It's easier to be patient when I don't have to listen to the nonsensical hypochondriac verbiage. How many vacations, how many school functions, how many birthdays were ruined because my mother had some kind of debilitating illness or maybe just because her big toe ached? Too many to count.

". . . that doctor has no bedside manner whatsoever," she ranted as I put the phone back to my ear.

"Mom."

"He told me there was nothing wrong with me, Bella. Can you believe that?"

"Mother!"

"And Aunt Sharon told me that her doctor–"

"Mom!" I shouted. "Have you heard from Seth?"

"Seth? No, dear, but I'm sure he'll come around soon. He's such a good boy."

I sighed, chanting inwardly–_She can't help it, Bella. She can't help it._ I clenched my teeth together, trying not to yell at her because it would be a waste of my energy. _He's a good boy? Really, Mom?_ There was no point in even trying to talk to her when she was delusional. She hadn't always been this bad, but in the past year or so, I'd started noticing times when she didn't see the world clearly at all.

She had never been professionally diagnosed because she didn't think anything was mentally wrong with her. Phil wouldn't confront her and insist that she see a psychologist; he just took her from doctor to doctor for her many physical ailments, in total denial that she was mentally ill.

No, I wasn't a psychiatrist, but I was somewhat of an expert simply because I'd lived with the woman for eighteen years. Plus, I'd googled the shit out of my mother's symptoms awhile back, and I believed she suffered from Narcissistic Personality Disorder. It had actually been a relief to put a name to it, and the discovery helped me realize that she really could not help her behavior. It was still difficult to deal with, but I had much more patience and compassion now than I had before.

"Mom, I'm really tired, so I'm going to go now. Please call me if you hear anything from Seth."

That was the first of four attempts to end the phone conversation. It was always like that; she just wouldn't stop talking. Five minutes later, I successfully hung up with the promise that I'd come by to see her and Phil on Saturday.

I moved to my desk in the corner of my room, powering up my computer. Not knowing if Seth was alive or dead was the worst kind of emotional limbo. If there was any activity on his Facebook profile, then I'd at least know he was still breathing, though I was certain he'd relapsed. It was a pattern I knew well–when Seth was back on meth, he disappeared because he knew he couldn't hide the truth from us. We would know just by looking at his unfocused eyes, his skeletal frame, and the new track marks on his arms. But by "we," I really mean "I" because Mom's narcissism didn't allow her to see things as they were, so I was the one who tried to watch over Seth. I was the one who begged him to check into rehab. I was the one who did all of this–and failed.

I pulled up Seth's profile, quickly finding the date of his last entry. I sighed with heavy disappointment–it had been nearly a month since he'd posted anything. If he was alive and lucid, he would have used a friend's computer or gone to a library to get online. He'd done that before, I knew. No internet activity meant that he was either dead or too fucked up to care about his online social life. I dropped my head into my hands, rubbing my eyes with my palms. I was emotionally and physically spent–heartbroken because of Seth and Edward and jetlagged beyond belief. I looked back at the monitor, staring at Seth's profile as an idea took hold.

Before I could allow the more sensible side of my brain to talk me out of it, my fingers began typing two words into the Facebook search box: Edward Cullen. I scrolled through a few possible matches, but my Edward wasn't listed. I felt a tug of disappointment, but I wasn't surprised–he really wasn't the social networking type.

Since returning from Iraq, he'd probably been more closed off from friends than ever. Alice had mentioned that Emmett was on Facebook, so I typed in his name. His profile came right up. I sent a friend request, and then I opened my email.

There was a "welcome home" email from Angela, asking me to call her as soon as I had time to catch up. I'd call her tomorrow when I hopefully would feel a little more human. There were a few emails from my ASU professor, Dr. Smith, who was in charge of my student teaching placement. Dr. Smith had sent all the details and instructions I would need regarding my placement at Dobson High School in Mesa. I was to report there at seven in the morning on Monday.

My mentor teacher was a Mr. Bailey who had over twenty years of experience in teaching high school English. I was looking forward to Monday for a couple of reasons. First, though teaching in England was amazing, I didn't have the opportunity to teach any literature there. I was really hoping that I'd get that opportunity at Dobson High. Second, keeping myself busy and my mind occupied was exactly what I needed. The less free time I had to dwell on Edward, the better.

I checked the time on the computer monitor. Damn, it was only 6:30–still too early to go to bed. Not only was I freakin' exhausted, but I just wanted this day from hell to be over and done.

Deciding I didn't care how early it was, I left my room and slipped into the bathroom across the hall. I took care of my personal business, washing my face and brushing my teeth quickly. As I passed through the hall, I peeked around the corner and said a quick goodnight to Alice and Jasper.

Back in my room, I smiled as I relaxed into the bounteous fluff of my down comforter. The caffeine I'd sucked down via my Diet Coke couldn't combat my exhaustion. I needed a respite from my feelings that could only be found in sleep. I drifted off almost immediately, my dreams latching onto my last conscious thought: one day without Edward down–a lifetime of days to go.

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**A/N: Okay, I KNOW you're not happy about Bella's decision, but what I'd like to know is if you understand it or empathize with it at all? Can you put yourself in her shoes or do you not get her way of thinking at all? Hit that review button and let me know your thoughts. **

**A/N: To see pictures that accompany each chapter, including this one, visit one of the following:**

**Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. **

**For photos and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL **

**/groups/281151482005898/**

**_Then request to be added to the group. _**


	18. A Reawakening of Grief

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**I'm the luckiest author around to have not one, not two, but FOUR fabulous betas: Pickwicksociety, JenKB, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180 from Project Team Beta. Hey, I think I'll call them The Fab Four! How appropriate since Edward and Emmett are Beatles fans! **

* * *

**Chapter 18 – A Reawakening of Grief**

Stepping out of my old but reliable red Honda Civic, I straightened my gray slacks and checked to ensure that my crisply ironed, white button-down was still tucked in properly. Reaching for my backpack on the seat, I took a deep cleansing breath. I was freaking nervous as hell about my first day of student teaching, though not quite as tense as I'd been at St. Andrew's School in England. The prospect of teaching in a foreign country had been monumentally more nerve-wracking. At least in an American school system, I knew what to expect as far as curriculum and teaching methods. But still–the unknown was awaiting me. _What would my mentor teacher be like? _I wondered_. Would he be nice and helpful or grumpy and hard-nosed? Would the students like me? _

I made my way through the parking lot of Dobson High, willing myself to not be daunted by the teachers or students. The kids I'd be working with now were older than those I'd taught in England. Teenagers can actually be very judgmental and even intimidating, especially the older ones. The teacher/student relationship is a very delicate thing–a teacher should convey kindness but not weakness, control but not dictatorship. Finding that balance is the difference between great teachers and mediocre ones, and it isn't an easy thing to achieve.

I checked in at the office where I was given a map and directions to Mr. Bailey's room. I found the room easily, and as I approached the open door, my heart beat more rapidly. Knocking on the door jamb, I poked my head into the classroom. "Hello?"

"Yes, come in!" A middle-aged man jumped up from behind a desk, quickly crossing the room. "Miss Swan?"

"Yes, that's right." I extended my hand. "Mr. Bailey?"

"Yes, it's wonderful to finally meet you." He shook my hand eagerly with a warm smile. "Please, come on in." He led me to his desk and pulled out an extra chair for me.

As I sat, I dropped my backpack to the floor and looked at Mr. Bailey more intently. He was a reasonably attractive albeit nerdy-looking, middle-aged man. Gray strands weaved through his light brown hair just above his ears. His friendly face was framed with gold wire glasses, and his nerdy look was complete with a blue polo shirt, khaki pants, and sneakers. I snickered inwardly at the sneakers and khakis combo.

"Miss Swan, I've mentored student teachers for the past ten years, and I have to say, it has been awhile since I was assigned one who came with such glowing reviews. Professor Smith assures me that you are a gifted teacher in the making."

My eyebrow cocked, reflecting my genuine astonishment. "Professor Smith said that? Wow . . . uh, well, thank you. I will do my best to not let either of you down."

Mr. Bailey smiled. "Don't thank me. I'm just saying what I've heard." He flipped through some papers on his desk. "Let's see . . . where did I put that?"

My eyes widened, taking in what looked like the aftermath of a tornado. His desk was blanketed in files, paper, and books; like snow drifts covering the ground, not an inch of wood was visible.

"Here we go," he said, handing me some stapled papers. "My seniors' college prep class will begin reading and studying _Jane Eyre_ on Monday. I'd like for you to teach the entire unit. I will assist you when needed and observe on occasion, but I'll also leave you unattended frequently. I find this helps a student teacher to relax and get into their groove, so to speak."

"_Jane Eyre_? Oh, that's fantastic!" I was beyond excited. Charlotte Bronte's classic was among a favorite of mine, and I'd read it many times. I was relieved that he hadn't assigned me something unfamiliar, which would require a lot more prep time on my part.

"I take it you've read it then?" He chuckled, turning and opening a cabinet behind his desk.

"Yes, and then some."

He took out a cardboard box full of books from the cabinet. Pulling one out, he handed it to me. "Here's a copy of _Jane Eyre_. Look over that packet and be ready to teach on Monday. That's the lesson plan outline, the assignments, and tests. If you want to incorporate something into your instruction that isn't in the lesson plan, you'll need to run it by me first."

"Okay, that's sounds good."

Mr. Bailey sipped his coffee, which gave me a mad hankering for my much needed second cup of the morning.

"This week I'll just have you observe so you can get familiar with the students and how I run my classes. I'll probably give you some essays to grade to keep you busy."

"Okay," I agreed, smiling.

"Good morning, Stephanie and Heather," Mr. Bailey called out, looking across the room. I glanced up to see two teen girls ambling their way to their desks.

"Morning, Mr. Bailey," they answered in unison.

He stood up with his coffee mug in hand. "Miss Swan, just hang out here, and I'll introduce you to the class in a while."

He made his way to the door where more students were trailing in. Standing in front of the open door, he smiled and greeted each student as they entered the classroom. Did he do this at the start of _every_ class? I was dumbfounded–I'd never seen a teacher do anything like that. Usually at the beginning of a class, teachers busied themselves preparing in some way, rifling through papers or writing on the board. I watched Mr. Bailey make eye contact with each student, talking and joking with them. It was such a small act, but I instinctively knew that it played a significant role in his relationship with the students. _Bailey Tip #1 – Greet your students._ I smiled, filing it away for future use.

The morning passed by quickly because I was thoroughly entranced watching Mr. Bailey teach. He was commanding, his voice authoritative yet kind. He taught with a zeal and passion for the subject as well as for his students. I felt really lucky that I'd have the opportunity to work with him for the next four weeks.

He'd had me stand in front of each of the three classes we'd had so far, introducing myself briefly to the students. They had responded enthusiastically when I told them I'd just returned from teaching in England, and I promised them I'd share some pictures and stories with them next week when I began teaching.

At lunch, Mr. Bailey had accompanied me to the cafeteria where I nervously selected the burrito while having flashbacks of the horrors of Falmer cafeteria food. He led me to the teacher's lounge, introducing me to a few teachers already sitting at the table. They were all friendly and welcoming, and I was relieved that my cafeteria burrito was surprisingly good.

Back in the classroom after lunch, Mr. Bailey had plopped a thick stack of papers in front of me. He explained that they were short stories written by his sophomores and gave me a few tips on what to watch for when grading, and then he set me loose with a red pen in hand.

Feeling tension in my neck and shoulders, it dawned on me that I'd spent the last two hours reading and grading without a breather. I put my pen down, stretching my arms behind my back. I listened briefly to Mr. Bailey explain his expectations for the essay that his seniors were to turn in on Friday.

I glanced at the clock, realizing that the day was almost over, and I'd barely thought about Edward at all. I simply hadn't had time, being constantly occupied with observing Mr. Bailey or grading papers. I was grateful for the distractions–today was the first small reprieve from the grief that I'd experienced in the four days since leaving Edward.

The weekend had been torturous. Having too much time on my hands, Edward had haunted me. On Friday night, Alice and Jasper had begged me to go with them to downtown Tempe to barhop, but I had adamantly declined. On Saturday, I paid the duteous visit to my mom and Phil. I showed them all my pictures, sharing some of my funnier adventures but purposefully omitting any mention of Edward and Emmett. There simply was no point. Edward was in my past now, and I knew my mom was the wrong place to look for a shoulder to cry on.

Angela spent the afternoon with me on Sunday. With the house to ourselves, since Alice was out with Jasper, we'd gorged ourselves on junk food–puffy Cheetos, brownies, and leftover pizza–while I told her everything about Edward.

"You walked away from _that_?" she squawked, eyeing me warily before looking back at the computer monitor. "You are a stronger woman than me!" Lowering her black-rimmed, librarian-style glasses to the tip of her nose, her eyes were glued to a picture of Edward and me on the Pulteney Bridge in Bath.

I smiled sadly, waiting for her to stop drooling over Edward's perfection. She clicked the mouse, moving to the next picture. It was a picture of me and Edward walking across Abbey Road in London.

"Goddamn, girl! I think I need to take a trip to Europe . . . or maybe Seattle?" She smirked, her eyes narrowing.

"I know . . . believe me, I know."

After sharing with her everything that had happened, and why I had ended our blossoming romance, she was supportive, but she didn't agree with it or understand my thinking at all. But how could she? Angela had never been in love, never been abandoned–hell, she'd never had her heart broken at all. Men had fawned over her since high school, her Mexican and Italian heritage giving her an exotic beauty with dark, long hair and almost black eyes. She enjoyed the attention, but her focus had always been on school and now her career as an engineer. Though she had observed me at my lowest point after Jacob left me, she still had no concept of the pain I'd endured, nor could she comprehend the fear that gripped me now.

A bell rang loudly, jolting me from my daydreaming and signaling the end of class. After the students emptied the room, Mr. Bailey gave me a few final instructions before dismissing me for the day.

I arrived home, happy to see Alice's car already in the driveway. I was excited to hear all about her first day at Coronado High in Tempe. I hoped it was as positive of an experience as mine had been.

"Al?" I hollered, closing the front door behind me.

"In the kitchen!"

Dropping my backpack on the sofa, I headed to the kitchen to find Alice pulling her head out of the refrigerator with a can of soda in her hand. "Want one?" she offered, holding it out to me.

"Thanks." I grabbed the can, promptly popping it open and taking a swallow. "So? How was it?"

Alice opened her soda, sitting down at the kitchen table. "It was amazing! Oh, my hell, Bella, I wish you could meet my mentor teacher. Mrs. Meadows is the craziest, most eccentric, most talented teacher I have ever seen."

"Really? How so?" I sat down and grabbed an orange from the fruit bowl.

"Well, okay . . . picture a short, plump woman in her sixties with bright red, spiky hair–sort of like mine actually. She's super strict, like she scared the shit out of me at first. She's not strict like some teachers who demean and humiliate the students. I mean, she's not rude or anything. She's just firm and loud, but I can tell those kids adore her. They're scared to death of her, but they know she loves them. I don't know how she does it." She held her finger up, taking a gulp of soda. "Anyway, right now her sophomores are reading _The Scarlett Letter_. Well, today she came to class dressed up as Hester Prynne!"

"Seriously? That's so cool."

"I know, right? So in costume, she read from the book, acting like Hester–sort of like a play. It was fucking amazing! Those kids were riveted, hanging on to her every word. Hell, I was fucking riveted."

"Why didn't I ever have any teachers like that?"

"Yeah, me either. But we can _become_ teachers like that, right?" Alice toed her heels off, stretching her arms over her head. "What about you? What's your mentor teacher like?"

"Well, he's not quite _that_ dramatic, but he's an excellent teacher. Really, I've already learned so much."

"I'm glad we both got great placements. We really lucked out."

I pulled off the last of the peel from my orange, focusing my attention on removing all of the gross white stuff still clinging to it. "Yeah, it was a good day."

"Other than teaching, how are you feeling, Bells? I didn't see you much over the weekend."

I sighed, gathering my thoughts before answering. "Today was easier than the past few days. Being busy was a good distraction." I paused, picking relentlessly at my orange. "It's hard. It's just going to take some time, Alice."

"Bella, you know I love you. I'll support you no matter what, but you need to know that I truly believe you're making a mistake."

"I know," I muttered, barely audible. Consciously attempting to change the subject, I asked, "So how are things with you and Jasper?"

Alice loudly expelled a breath of air, her shoulders slumping over. "You would think that after not seeing him for two months, I'd come back to a more rejuvenated relationship." She sat upright, looking at me. "Like . . . I don't know . . . you'd think the sex would be new and exciting after being apart for so long, right? You know, distance makes the heart grow fonder and all that shit?"

I nodded, stilling my hands from mangling my orange and focused all my attention on Alice.

"But no–still no spark, no lust. It's almost to the point that I dread being intimate with him because it feels like having sex with my brother. Not that I would know what that is like because I don't have a brother, and if I did, I certainly wouldn't have sex with him. But you know what I fucking mean, right?"

I nodded, smirking at her silliness.

"I read all this self-help malarkey about rekindling the romance, getting the spark back. These therapists say that it's normal to lose that excitement for each other because couples get bogged down in day to day living, so they stop doing sweet, romantic things for each other. But all their advice is based on the premise that the sexual chemistry was there at one fucking time but has diminished. All that shit doesn't apply to my relationship because we never had the fucking spark to begin with. How do you rekindle something that was never fucking there in the first place?"

"Um, does Jasper have any idea how you feel? I mean, do you think he might feel that way, too?"

"Actually, I talked to him about it yesterday for the first time. It was really hard, but we've always been honest, and if I do break up with him down the road, I don't want him to be completely blindsided."

"What did you tell him? I mean, just how honest were you?"

"I was brutally honest," she said sadly. "I told him as nicely as I could that I'm not sexually attracted to him, that I feel like we're best friends, and that's all."

"Oh, my god, you did? How did he react?"

Alice chuckled bitterly, shaking her head. "If you can believe it, he wasn't that shocked. He said that it was normal. He told me that the 'I can't keep my hands off of you, can't stop thinking about you' stage only lasts for the first one or two years. He said that's why so many relationships don't last longer than a few months or a couple of years at most–because people jump from one person to another looking for the 'high' that they get when they first fall in love . . . because it doesn't last . . . ever."

"Huh." I pulled my orange segments apart, contemplating Jasper's assertion. "That's a rather dismal notion."

"Well, I don't fucking buy it. After he told me that, I googled the shit out of the subject. I did find studies that support what he said about the fluttery, intense love phase only lasting for the first couple of years at best. Hormones are released, drawing the male and female together–it's nature's way of making sure the species continues. It's the hormones that create that high feeling. But none of the studies said that the physical attraction goes completely fucking away, like down to zero. It just said that the hormones come down to manageable levels. I mean, you'd never be able to function and get anything done if you remained in that state where you think about the other person constantly. I get that."

Alice took a drink, letting out a sigh. "I also posted on this love and relationship forum. I said that I wanted to hear from anyone who was in a long-term relationship longer than five years who still lusts for their partner, who still gets fluttery over them. I got about twenty responses. Most of them said similar things–that the intensity of the attraction ebbs and flows over time, but that it has never gone away completely. So Jasper is fucking wrong."

"Wow, Alice, I'm impressed. I mean, that you're looking at all of this from a logical standpoint, researching and shit. I do agree with Jasper that people change partners frequently because they're looking for the intensity they feel during the beginning of a relationship. But I also agree with you–I don't think that sexual attraction always dissipates to the point of being nothing more than platonic friends. I do think that it's not an easy thing to find somebody who you have sexual chemistry with _and_ friendship and compatibility."

"Oh, yeah, that reminds me. Jasper said that it is either wild intense sex with a crazy person who has 'issues,' who you fight with all the time _or_ a solid friendship and companionship with less sexual intensity. He said that you can't have them both."

"I understand why he thinks that because most people experience just one or the other. That's exactly what I'm saying–it's rare but not impossible to find both of those elements with one person."

"Exactly, Bella. And that's why I think you're making a terrible mistake with Edward. I know you don't want to talk about it, but it actually pisses me off that I would give anything to find what you seem to have found with him. From what you've told me, you two have an intense sexual attraction plus you also have similar values and interests. You had something together that is rare, and you're just fucking throwing it away."

I stared at her, stunned and a little hurt. I lowered my eyes. "You don't understand because you've never been in my shoes," I mumbled quietly.

"Bella, what if he does survive Iraq? You've given up a chance at a happy life with him."

I stood up, throwing my orange in the trash. "I just can't take the risk, Alice!"

"It is better to have loved and lost–"

"Oh, my fucking god, Alice! Don't even throw that quote at me. Whoever said that 'it is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all' is full of shit! Obviously, that person never lost fucking anything before." I glared at her, breathing heavily.

The atmosphere in the kitchen was charged with the anger from my outburst, the silence screaming at us.

"I didn't mean to upset you, Bells. I'm sorry."

I picked up my soda from the table. "No, I'm sorry," I whispered. "Um, I'm gonna go to my room for a while."

Alice nodded, smiling sadly.

I practically ran to my room, scooping up my backpack from the sofa as I passed through the family room. I flung myself onto my bed, lying on my stomach as the memory of one of the worst days I'd ever lived through came out of nowhere, assaulting me.

_It had been five blurry days since Jacob had left. I woke up alone in the bed my husband and I had shared. For a split second, I was void of all thought. Then, suddenly, reality crashed down on me as I remembered all over again what had happened: my husband had discarded me. I screamed and cried, desperately trying to go back to sleep. Day after day, I woke up to the nightmare of my life and went to sleep for escape._

_Unable to find relief in slumber again, I wandered to the kitchen, but after looking through the cabinets and refrigerator, nothing sounded even slightly appealing. I was physically weak from not being able to eat, and I'd come down with a cold that turned into bronchitis. I'd been holed up in our apartment, physically and emotionally unable to go to work at my job as a secretary at a law firm._

_I hit rock bottom that morning. Clutching a pillow in my desperate hands, I pressed it tightly against my body, clinging to it like I wanted to cling to everything in my life that was vanishing. The small living room was my track of tears as I paced incessantly while a salt-water cascade fell from my eyes. Back and forth–ten steps, turn, ten steps, turn. If I stopped, I just might lose my sanity._

_My voice was foreign to me as it cried out to my absent husband. It had the sound of a wounded child–a frightened little girl. "Why, Jacob? You said you loved me more than anything in the world. You promised you would never leave. I'll do anything. I will change! Please!" I cried out to the empty room. This was followed by hysterical shrieking and deep breaths. I think I was probably nearing hyperventilation. This continued for a couple of hours–I simply could not stop._

_In desperation and soul-wrenching pain, I dialed the telephone. When Jacob's mother answered, I wept uncontrollably, unable to speak. Finally, I choked out a plea to talk to Jacob. She told me that he didn't want to talk to me. Even though I was clearly crying and suffering, the woman who I'd called Mom for two years offered no comforting words. After five minutes of listening to my hysteria, she finally relented, hollering for Jacob._

_She explained that he would listen to me, but that he wouldn't answer questions or talk to me in any way. After a few moments of silence, his mother yelled into the phone, "Start talking–he's listening." Yeah, he wouldn't even say the word "hello."_

_I cried out in desperation, "Please, Jacob! I am so lonely, and I'm sick. Please come and just sit with me. I won't bother you. I just need someone. Please help me; I need you. I love you so much! I'll change!" I begged and cried without shame. When my desperate pleas were completely ignored by the man I thought had loved me, I knew I'd lost him forever. I hung up the phone, immediately calling Angela._

_Finding me still pacing and nearly hyperventilating, Angela drove me to the emergency room. I didn't even have the ability to argue with her about it. Shockingly, even in public, I was unable to control my emotions and tears. I squeaked out answers to the receptionist, giving her my address and insurance information in between deep breaths and sobs. Normally, I'd be embarrassed to create such a scene in public, but I was literally unable to control myself._

_A psychiatrist put me on tranquilizers, but only with the promise that Angela would stay with me, keeping possession of the pills. I suppose they were afraid I might try to kill myself. The pills didn't take the pain away by any means; they simply numbed me, effectively drying up the tears and stilling my words._

Before Jacob left me, I'd had no concept of the black chasm of despair that a human being could find themselves in–the suffering was beyond comprehension unless experienced. Alice and Angela simply could not understand; therefore, they couldn't empathize with why I'd never allow myself to experience a horrific day like that again. I knew that if I stayed with Edward and ever received a phone call or letter telling me that he'd been killed in Iraq, I would spiral into that abyss of traumatic loss again–that hell on earth that had nearly killed me.

I rolled to the edge of my bed, yanking a tissue from the box on the nightstand. After cleaning up my tear-stained face, I tossed it in the wastebasket. Stripping out of my clothes, I threw on some leggings and a camisole. I retrieved the copy of _Jane Eyre_ from my backpack that Mr. Bailey had given me. Even though I'd read it many times, I needed a distraction. Plus, it couldn't hurt to have the story fresh in my mind since I'd have to teach it and explain imagery, symbolism, and themes to my students.

I snuggled back onto my bed, flipping to the right page. Eager to temporarily escape my life in exchange for Jane's, I read the first sentence–_"There was no possibility of taking a walk that day"–_and found comfort in the written word like I had so many times in the past.

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**A/N: There will no longer be pictures that accompany each chapter until we hit chapter 29. I'll remind you when we get there. **


	19. Breakdowns and Breakthroughs

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: To my betas - Pickwicksociety, JenKB, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180 – I couldn't do it without you! Your support and generous giving of your time means so much. *cue the tears***

**FYI: I'm bound to "offend" some Folgers drinkers in this chapter. I can already imagine some reviews I might get, scoffing at my Folger's slam. Just know that no harm came to any Folgers coffee during the writing of this chapter.**

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_**Chapter 19 – Breakdowns and Breakthroughs**_

I'd learned the hard way that there are some things in life that simply cannot be skimped on. I've found that–_you get what you pay for–_to be true most of the time. There is a difference between cheap and expensive wine, which I'd discovered in Italy when Edward bought that costly wine at dinner that Alice got drunk on. The same goes for coffee. Holy hell, there's a laughable difference between the dirty water taste of inexpensive Folgers versus the rich flavor of the pricey gourmet Kona coffee from Hawaii. Yet by the same standard, my generic cinnamon toast crunch cereal was just as yummy in all its sugary deliciousness as the brand-name box at almost double the price. It takes time and sometimes painful lessons learned to determine which services and products are worth the extra money.

One such painful lesson learned was to _not_ try to save money at the beauty salon. A few years ago, as a poor college student, I'd gone to one of those national chain salons for a haircut and some subtle highlights. It was a traumatizing experience. The chemicals from the highlights actually burnt my hair off, leaving a small bald spot on my scalp about the size of a dime. I don't know what exactly she did wrong to cause that result, but _that_ was not supposed to happen. I'd refused to pay for any of it and was in tears for days. Fortunately, if I wore my hair combed back in a ponytail, the bald spot wasn't noticeable, but it took flippin' forever for it to grow back. Ever since then, I've been handing over the big bucks at Rolf's Salon even though I can't really afford it, but whatever–I'm worth it.

"Can I offer you something to drink? Lemonade, coffee, soda, or water perhaps?" The petite, platinum blonde salon receptionist stood in front of me, smiling.

Knowing I'd be up late tonight and also aware that Rolf's does not serve shiteous coffee, I opted for as much caffeine as possible. "Coffee, please, with cream and sugar."

"Sure," she said cheerfully, turning away.

"Oh, um, a couple of oatmeal cookies, too, please?" I smiled sheepishly.

She laughed, nodding her head as she walked away.

_What?_ I was starving. It was four o'clock, and I hadn't eaten since lunchtime at the school cafeteria, and that was at eleven-thirty. And considering Rolf's was raking in anywhere from fifty to eighty dollars for a haircut, depending on the experience of the stylist–well, they could damn well feed me a few cookies and a cup of coffee.

The receptionist returned promptly, setting my goodies on the glass table beside me. I thanked her, snatching up the cookies and elegantly stuffing half of one in my mouth. Waiting in the lobby for my stylist, Gianna, to come and get me, I was left with nothing to do but think, which I'd been trying to avoid as much as possible.

My first week of student teaching–more accurately, observing–had been a long one. A portion of my week had been spent grading papers, but the majority of my time, I'd just watched and listened. Though I was learning a lot from Mr. Bailey, I was antsy and anxious to get in front of the class and start _doing_.

Worst of all were my evenings–they'd dragged by, painfully so. Every night I'd busied myself preparing lessons for next week when I'd start teaching _Jane Eyre_, but even that task inevitably led to thoughts of Edward. I couldn't help but see parallels between me and Jane. She declined marrying Rochester because she feared doing so would threaten her autonomy–her refusal was an act of self-protection. The similarities screamed at me from the book's pages, triggering an hour's worth of daydreaming about Edward.

"Bella?"

I sat the coffee mug down, hopping up excitedly. "Gianna!" I smiled, giving her a hug.

She'd been my hairstylist for three years, and though we didn't socialize outside of the salon, we were fond of each other, and she always gave me hugs.

"You're back! I want to hear all about England. She picked up my coffee mug for me, leading the way back to her station in the adjoining room.

I followed behind her, admiring her classically beautiful sense of style. Dressed in black as were all Rolf's stylists, she wore sling-back heels with a capped-sleeve, wraparound dress. Her straight, chestnut hair hung to her shoulders, framing her exotic features and complementing her olive-complexion.

After putting on a black robe and then being draped with a cape–they were serious about protecting customers from itchy, errant hairs–I settled into the chair.

"So you're off to Jasper's birthday party tonight, right?"

I looked at her, surprised. "Uh, how–"

"Alice told me all about it when she was here the other day." Gianna smiled, shrugging.

"Oh, hell." I rolled my eyes at my forgetfulness. "Yeah, I completely forgot she came in for a trim. And, yes, I'm going to the party."

Hanging out in a crowded bar, full of drunk, testosterone-pumped frat boys with only one thing on their minds was the last thing I wanted to do, but Jasper was a good friend, and I wanted to support him.

"So are you up for something different or just the usual trim?"

"Hmm, I don't know . . . did you have something in mind?"

"Well, I wouldn't do anything drastic–your hair is too beautiful to cut too much of it." She combed through my long hair with her fingers, holding up sections of it. "I would love to see some subtle layers. I wouldn't take off any length, but a few layers will give your hair more body and bounce."

"Sold. Let's do it!" I grinned. A little bounce in my step–or in my hair–sounded like the perfect pick-me-up.

"Fantastic! Let's get started."

I followed her to another room and settled into a chair, leaning my head back into the sink. Rolf's didn't just shampoo hair–they also gave several minutes worth of scalp massaging. Gianna was extra generous, working the muscles in the back of my neck and doing little circular motions with the tips of her fingers all across my head. That alone was worth the whole fifty dollars. It felt so freakin' good!

Back at her station, she peppered me with questions about Europe. As she cut my hair, I shared a couple of my adventures with her before turning the attention to her.

"What about you? How have you been?" She was standing behind me, so I looked at her reflection in the mirror in front of me.

Her face dropped. "Honestly, Bella? It's taking all I have to paste a smile on my face today."

"Oh, Gia, why?" I was genuinely concerned. She had an infectiously cheerful personality; I'd never seen her without a smile on her face.

"My girlfriend's husband died last week, and the funeral was yesterday. Bella, he was only thirty-three."

"Oh, my god. What happened?"

"He just dropped dead at work–literally collapsed and was unconscious all the way to the hospital. His boss called his wife–my friend–and when she arrived at the hospital, he was already gone."

My mouth fell open, my eyes wide. "Oh, Gianna, I'm so sorry. Do they know what happened?"

"Well, they had to do an autopsy, which determined he died nearly instantly from an abdominal aortic aneurysm."

"Aortic? So–his heart burst?"

"Not exactly his heart–the large blood vessel that supplies blood from the heart to the abdomen and the legs is what burst. He was thin, athletic, and seemingly healthy. He had absolutely no symptoms indicating anything was wrong before this."

Gianna sighed, pulling a blowdryer out of the drawer. "It's just really hard. He was my friend, too. I mean, my husband and I hung out with them quite a bit. Plus, seeing my friend go through such a loss is difficult. I don't know how to help her. She has two small children who don't understand why Daddy hasn't come home from work."

"I don't know what to say," I mumbled, my eyes tearing up.

"I know. I don't know what to say to her either. It's just tragic. It's also a bitter reminder to hold the people you love close to you, to tell them you love them every day, and never take one minute with them for granted. Your time here can be up at any time whether you're healthy or not."

I gave her a sad smile and a nod as she flipped on the blowdryer. The repetitive tugging of my hair as she pulled it around the brush was hypnotizing, and I was left to my thoughts as the white noise and heat surrounded me.

I really fucking hated hearing stories like that. Obviously, my heart broke for his wife and children, but I also loathed it because I was reminded of how fragile life really is. Stories like that laughed in the face of the illusionary control that I liked to pretend I had over my own life.

Screaming through the whir of the blowdryer, my thoughts began warring with each other. Gullible Bella said smugly, _This just proves that you could marry someone with the safest job in America–like an accountant–and he could still suffer an untimely death. _

Control Freak Bella countered, _That's true, but I'd say the odds of a healthy young man dying in a war zone are much higher than the odds of dropping dead from an aneurysm. _

I seemed to be suffering from a split personality episode, and it was rather unpleasant. Arguing with myself created an uncomfortable tightness in my chest, but the voices just wouldn't shut up.

_You don't know that–you're just assuming those odds. Why don't you go google it, Know-It-All,_ Gullible Bella retorted.

My chair spun around facing the mirror, jolting me from my Sybil-esque ramblings. I hadn't even noticed that Gianna had turned off the blowdryer. "What do you think, Bella?"

The length was still just below my shoulders, but just as she'd said, instead of hanging straight down, my hair now had more body and a few natural waves. "You're amazing, Gianna. I love it!"

* * *

"Bella, darlin'!" Jasper hugged me tightly, lifting my feet slightly off of the floor. Stepping back, he smiled. "You are lookin' mighty fine tonight."

He was likely referring to my new haircut more than anything else because my outfit was rather average. Feeling blasé about going out, I'd quickly thrown on some dark jeans and a cute but non-sexy red, capped-sleeve blouse. I didn't even wear heels, opting for ballet flats–I wasn't here to impress anyone.

"Well, you're pretty easy on the eyes, too, birthday boy." I raised my eyebrow flirtatiously.

We'd always enjoyed a fun and teasing banter, though the flirting was completely benign. Besides, I was only being truthful–Jasper _was_ easy on the eyes, especially tonight. His pale blue button-down shirt made the blue of his eyes nearly leap out at me. A southern boy through and through, he had on snug black Wrangler jeans and black cowboy boots, and his slight drawl made him even more attractive.

It was sort of surprising that Alice didn't feel any lust for him, but then again, neither did I. I could cerebrally acknowledge that he was handsome, but I felt no overwhelming inclination to straddle him and ride him 'til morning.

"Well, thank ya, Ma'am," he said, winking.

"Bella, you're here!" I turned and saw Alice walking toward us.

She handed Jasper a beer, pulling me into a hug. "I would have gotten you a drink, but I didn't know you'd arrived. You can have this one." She held out her beer.

"Actually, I think I'm going to go for the hard stuff tonight, but thanks anyway. I'll be right back."

I worked my way through the crowd, heading over to the bar. The Tavern on Mill was a hotspot for the college crowd, located in downtown Tempe, just blocks from the college campus. Being a Friday night, the large venue was packed, spilling over onto the outdoor patio. After a couple of minutes, I wormed my way up to the bar and ordered my favorite drink, a Madras–vodka and cranberry with a splash of orange juice.

By the time I headed back to our table, some of Jasper's friends had arrived. There was a nice looking blond guy with a petite, blonde woman on his arm; I didn't know either of them. And Riley was there–the one man besides Edward who had tempted me to violate Operation Nun. As I approached the group, he stared at me.

"Bella! It's great to see you again. You look amazing." Riley smiled, his eyes scanning me, head to toe.

Riley and Jasper had met during their first year of college in one of their general education classes and had become close friends over the years. They both had graduated last year. Jasper was a high school history teacher, and Riley worked as a psychologist.

I'd been around him a handful of times, and about six months ago, he'd asked me out on a date. At the time, I was just a few months into Operation Nun, so I'd turned him down, explaining that it wasn't him but that I wasn't dating anyone for a while. If not for my self-imposed celibacy, I would have gone out with him in a heartbeat. He seemed like a really good guy, and he was damn attractive–light brown hair, deep chocolate brown eyes, and a really nice smile with the fullest lips.

"Uh, thanks," I said smiling, taking a sip of my drink. "How have you been?"

"Really good. So how was Europe?"

"Bella, Riley, come here," Jasper interrupted, standing up from the table. "I want to introduce you to some friends."

We stepped over to the table where Jasper and Alice were sitting with the couple I hadn't recognized.

"This is Peter and his wife, Charlotte. Peter works at the school with me–he's a math teacher. And this is Bella, Alice's friend . . . and mine." Jasper chuckled. "And Riley here is my college buddy."

We all exchanged the standard pleasantries before gathering around the table. Alice had already ordered a shitload of appetizers for everyone, but I still didn't have much of an appetite.

Before I knew it, I was four drinks deep on an empty stomach and enjoying drunken conversation with Riley. He hadn't left my side the entire evening. I'd regaled him with all my best stories from Europe, and he talked about building up his private practice and how much he was enjoying his new career.

"So . . . uh, I have a question for you, Bella. Is your self-inflicted, no-dating policy still in effect?"

"Well, um, it's–" I gulped down the rest of my Madras, eyes darting around the room.

I didn't know what to say. Technically, Operation Nun had ended the moment I got involved with Edward, but my heart hurt too much to even think about going out with Riley or anyone other than Edward. I was certain that was where Riley was headed with his line of questioning.

"Uh, never mind," he said awkwardly. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

Damn! Why did he have to be so nice? I figured I might as well be honest with him so that hopefully he wouldn't take my disinterest personally.

"No, it's okay . . . um, well, technically my no-dating policy has ended. However, uh, I sorta met someone when I was in Europe. It's already over, but . . . uh, I'm not really over him. So–" I stared at the ice in my empty glass, finding it difficult to actually say that I wasn't interested in going out with him.

"So you're not ready to date?"

I nodded, smiling apologetically.

"You're a smart woman, Bella. You _should_ take time to heal before getting involved with someone else."

"Is that professional advice from Riley the Psychologist?" I smiled.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, it is–free of charge."

We laughed and then I excused myself to the ladies' room. After nearly pissing my jeans while waiting in line, I wobbled my way over to the bar to get another drink. I was feeling pretty good for the first time in eight days, and I wanted to feel even better. After waiting in another long-ass line at the bar, I whirled around, nearly dropping my glass when I saw him.

"Well, well, well, Bel-la! It's been a long time."

"Uh . . . hi, Mike." He looked as good as he had nearly a year ago when I'd broken up with him. He had the classic All-American good looks–blond hair, blue eyes, and an athletic body. But tonight the All-American boy was clearly drunk off his ass; I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice.

"'Hi, Mike'? That's all I get? C'mon, beautiful, give me a hug." He wrapped his arms around me roughly, causing a bit of my drink to slosh out of the glass.

"Okay, Mike, you got your hug." I pushed against his chest with my free hand, but he kept his muscular arms tightly around me. I gasped when his hands slid down to my ass.

"And you feel as good as I remember." He squeezed my ass cheeks, moving his mouth just inches from mine and breathing his beer breath on me.

"Mike!" I pushed against him again, harder. "Stop! I have a boyfriend who's gonna beat your ass if you don't take your hands off me."

Mike pulled away from me and looked around the room. "Then where is he? I'd say he's not doing a very good job taking care of you tonight."

He took a step back into my personal space, gripping my hips with his hands. "You deserve better than that, Bella. You _know_ I can give you better."

I knew that expression on his face–he was in his horny, predatory mode. What he meant to say was that he could fuck me better. We'd had passion and chemistry when we were together. He definitely was skilled in the art of bringing a woman to orgasm, but the physical chemistry was _all_ that we had.

I chuckled, pushing his hands away as I bent over, laughing sardonically as only a drunk can. My sudden movement caused my drink to spill yet again. I really needed to drink that shit down, so I took two big gulps before I spoke. "What I _know_ is that you are not even in the same league as he is." Feeling an irrational need to defend Edward, I emphasized my next words slowly and seethingly so even someone as drunk as Mike could understand. "_He_ is the love of my life!"

"Sweetheart? Is this a friend of yours?"

I whirled around just as Riley's hands slipped around my waist, pulling me against his side. He smiled, kissing my forehead.

"I'm Riley, and you are?" He offered his hand to Mike.

My drunken outburst suddenly subdued as I watched the exchange. Mike eyed Riley up and down, probably deciding he'd better back down because Riley was decidedly bigger than he was and could probably kick his ass without too much effort.

"Mike, Bella's ex," he said flatly, shaking Riley's hand.

"Bella's ex, huh? Funny–she's never mentioned you. Well, your loss is my gain." Riley looked down at me, squeezing my hip. "Let's head back to our table."

I nodded. He took my hand, and we walked away from Mike without a goodbye or even a glance. The rest of our group was standing near our table, and Alice narrowed her eyes, looking all kinds of confused when she saw me holding Riley's hand. As we slid into the booth, he released my hand.

"Thank you," I said, sheepishly glancing up at him.

"You're welcome. I just . . . well, I heard you telling him you have a boyfriend, so–"

I nodded, embarrassed that he'd heard me saying that my boyfriend–who actually wasn't my boyfriend anymore–was the love of my life.

"Bella, please don't take this the wrong way." He took out his wallet and pulled out a card, sliding it across the table to me. It was his business card. "I like to think that I read people pretty well, and you seem to be struggling with whatever happened in Europe with this guy. I know it might be a little awkward at first because . . . well, because I asked you out. But if you ever want to talk about things, it would be strictly professional."

"I . . . uh, I don't know." Well, hell–he thinks I need a psychologist? It's normal to be sad after a break-up. But he knew I'd been married and divorced, and maybe Jasper or Alice told him why I broke up with Edward. Still, it was rather disconcerting to be judged as someone who needed a shrink.

"I understand, but just keep my card in case you change your mind, okay? Oh, and I wouldn't charge you anything. I know what it's like to be a poor college student."

"Thanks, Riley. Thank you for everything." I buried my face in my hands, taking deep breaths as nausea came out of nowhere. "Um, could you call me a taxi? I'm not feeling very well."

"I'll take you home."

"Bella, what's wrong?" Alice appeared suddenly, rubbing my back.

"I feel sick," I mumbled, my head now resting on the table.

"I can take her home, Alice," Riley offered again.

"That's really nice of you. Is that okay, Bella?"

I lifted my head, barely opening my eyes and nodded my approval. "Tell Jasper I'm sorry, and I'll give him his birthday present tomorrow."

* * *

_I am hovering over a dusty, hot desert–it's brutally hot. It's quiet but tension permeates the air. I feel scared, but I don't know why. Then I see him. He's crouched behind a military truck, wearing army fatigues and holding a rifle._

"_Edward! Edward, no!" He doesn't hear me–it's as if I'm not even here._

_I scream louder, but my cries are washed out when bullets begin flying and things start exploding all around. It is chao– there is fire; there is yelling; there are men on the ground, bleeding. Edward is shooting and hollering orders to his men before he runs to another position._

_I scream at him to hide, to protect himself, but he still doesn't hear me. _

_I am hysterical, willing him to hear my voice. Finally, he turns and looks at me. _

_His eyes are wet with tears and his voice cracks. "You . . . don't want me."_

_Before I can say anything, he leaves the protection of the vehicle, running out into the open, shooting as he goes. _

"_Nooo, Edward!"_

_And then Jacob is standing in the middle of the battlefield dressed in civilian clothes._

_He looks up at me as I hover over the scene. Glaring, Jacob hisses, "I don't want you anymore, Bella." _

I slowly became aware of a change in my surroundings–I was no longer floating over a battlefield. I turned over and hugged my pillow, drawing my legs up to my chest. Slowly, I opened my eyes, wiping my wet cheeks with my palm.

"Oh, kill me now," I groaned, trying to swallow. My mouth was as dry as the desert in my dream, and my head felt like it might explode. I didn't want to get out of bed, but I needed to piss like a race horse and then down some water and pain killers immediately.

Sitting up, I groaned in discomfort. My whole body ached from the damned alcohol-induced dehydration. I was ridiculously stupid for drinking so much, especially since I hadn't eaten first. I knew better, but I'd gotten lost in feeling numb for a while, temporarily relieved of the ever-present elephant named Edward sitting on my chest. It had felt really good to loosen up and not hurt so much. Only now, I was hurting physically.

After Riley brought me home from the bar, I'd stripped out of my jeans and then spent some time hugging the porcelain throne. I still had on the shirt that I'd worn last night, so I threw on a pair of shorts and made a beeline to the bathroom.

After doing my business and scaring the shit out of myself when I looked in the mirror, I crept through the living room, hoping that nobody was around. No such luck, I realized as I neared the kitchen. I could hear water running and the clanking of dishes.

"Well, good afternoon, Drunkella," Alice chirped, her voice coated in annoying sugary sweetness.

I glared at her, continuing to the refrigerator where I pulled out a bottle of water. I chugged down half of it before opening a cabinet, looking for something for my headache. The annoying clatter of the dishes was grating on my nerves.

"So what was with the hand holding?" Alice blurted.

"He was pretending." I put the pills in my mouth, gulping down most of the remaining water. "Mike was there. He was drunk and wouldn't leave me alone, so Riley pretended to be my boyfriend."

"You know he'd like to do more than pretend, right?"

I sighed, sliding into a chair at the table. "I know, but that's not gonna happen."

"Why not, Bella? He's hot, he's nice, and psychology is a pretty safe profession. That's what you want, right? Safe and low risk?"

I glared at her, rolling my eyes. She was obviously trying to make a point, but she just didn't understand. "Yes, that's what I want . . . but not with him. I want Edward."

"You had Edward."

"Al, _please_ . . . I am hung all the fuck over. Please let's not talk about this yet again."

She closed the dishwasher and leaned against the counter, sighing. "I decided."

I whipped my head up in surprise. She was looking at the floor, her expression somber.

"You mean about–"

She nodded. "Yes. I'm going to break things off with Jasper. I'm not sure when. I just have to mentally prepare myself for it, ya know?"

"Do you want to talk about it? I mean, is there anything I can do to help you?"

She smiled sadly. "Not yet, but after I do it, I'll probably need a shoulder to cry on . . . and so will he."

She grabbed a soda from the refrigerator and sat at the table with me. "Bella, I wasn't serious when I encouraged you to get with Riley. You should be with Edward. The way you described how it was between you two and what I observed with my own eyes . . . well, _that's_ what I'm looking for. It's why I'm taking the risk of walking away from Jasper into the unknown."

"Have you contacted Emmett yet?"

"No, but I'll probably email him soon. They just returned to Seattle yesterday."

Just knowing Edward was back in the States–so close but still so far–was unsettling. My heart hurt. "I feel like shit. I'm going to take a shower."

I left the kitchen quickly so that Alice didn't have a chance to keep talking about Emmett, which only made me think about Edward more than usual.

After a hot shower, I felt marginally more human. I spent the afternoon doing laundry, cleaning my bathroom, and napping. Okay, I might have indulged myself for a few minutes, staring at pictures of Edward on my computer.

After a quick spaghetti dinner that Alice prepared, I spent the evening in my room working on the _Jane Eyre_ lesson plan, eventually falling asleep surrounded by my book and papers.

"Bella! Wake up!"

_I hear Alice's voice, but I don't see her anywhere. I am on my front porch, on my knees, with a crumpled letter in my hands. I can't stop crying as I watch two soldiers walk away and get into a black car. _

"Bella, can you hear me?"

_I hear Alice again. I wish she was here right now to help me. I'm sobbing hysterically as I open the letter again, unable to accept the words I'd read a few minutes earlier. I read it again, the horrific letter telling me that Captain Edward Cullen had been killed in the line of duty in Iraq. _

_"No, it can't be true," I shrieked, angrily tearing the venomous paper into pieces._

"Bella, wake up, you're dreaming!"

I screamed, sitting straight up. Panting, I looked around, my eyes focusing in on Alice sitting beside me on the bed.

"Bella, honey, it was a dream. You're okay."

"It was a dream?" I gasped, feeling disoriented. "Oh, thank god." My hands clutched my chest, waiting for the ache to subside.

"I could hear you crying and hollering from my room. Do you want to talk about it?"

I shook my head wildly. "No, no. I'm sorry I woke you up."

"It's fine. Are you okay now?"

"Uh-huh, yeah."

"Okay, good night then." She crept out of my dark room, leaving me alone with the memories of the dream–or rather, the nightmare.

I settled back onto my pillow, still gripped by the suffocating grief I'd felt in the dream._ What the freak is going on?_ I'd had nightmares two nights in a row about Edward. Was PTSD contagious or something because I was having disturbing dreams much like Edward had. _Fuck!_

I was supposed to feel better after breaking up with him, having removed the risk of having a boyfriend go off to war and get himself killed. Instead, I seemed to have traumatized myself to the point of inducing nightmares. Maybe I did need a shrink. Yet, the thought of talking to Riley–who liked me in _that_ way–about Edward just seemed too weird.

As I reached for my water bottle on the nightstand, the erotic candle I'd bought in England caught my eye. Why the hell hadn't I dreamed about all the hot sex I had with Edward? I certainly thought about it enough–you'd think those memories would find their way into my subconscious and play out in my sleep. But no–since last seeing Edward, all of my dreams about him had been disturbing. I closed my eyes, recreating in my mind the look in Edward's eyes as we made love and the sensation of him moving in me, willing this memory to come alive in my dreams.

* * *

"This is Helen Burns speaking to Jane, followed by Jane's response. Who would like to read that paragraph for us?" I glanced up from my book to see only the hands of my female students in the air. I really needed to find a way to draw the boys into this story. "Kelly, go ahead."

Kelly read with a bold, dramatic voice:

_"'If all the world hated you, and believed you wicked, while your own conscience approved you, and absolved you from guilt, you would not be without friends._

"_No; I know I should think well of myself; but that is not enough: if others don't love me I would rather die than live – I cannot bear to be solitary and hated, Helen. Look here; to gain some real affection from you, or Miss Temple, or any other whom I truly love, I would willingly submit to have the bone of my arm broken, or to let a bull toss me, or to stand behind a kicking horse, and let it dash its hoof at my chest.'"_

"Thank you, Kelly. You're an excellent reader."

I walked through the aisles between the students' desks. "_Jane Eyre_ is very much the story of a quest to be loved. You might have a preconceived notion that this novel is all about romantic love, but it is much more than that. The heroine, Jane, is looking for a sense of belonging and being valued."

An arm shot up in the air, waving. "Yes, Lisa?"

"Uh, well, I'm a quick reader, so I read ahead. I'm confused why Jane turned down Rochester's proposal if she wants so much to be loved."

"Uh-oh, spoiler alert," I said dramatically, smiling. "I'm glad you're enjoying it enough to read ahead. I don't want to give too much away, but I will say that she's trying to reconcile her desire to be loved without sacrificing herself. She fears losing her autonomy and being dependent on Rochester. Hers is a journey to become whole on her own, without anyone else–only then can she truly love and be loved. When we get to that part in the narrative, we'll delve into it in more detail, okay?"

Lisa smiled, nodding quietly.

"Okay, so remember your chapter summaries are due on Friday. You can read silently until the bell rings."

I gathered my notes, returning to the folding table in the corner that had become my desk. Jane Eyre was beginning to haunt me–she was seriously messing with my head. My explanation to my student played back in my mind: _It is a journey to become whole on her own, without anyone else–only then can she truly love and be loved. _

The whole purpose of Operation Nun had been to heal, to become whole. I thought I'd accomplished that–after all, I wasn't afraid to commit to a man again. I was willing to be in a relationship with Edward and to love him, thus making myself vulnerable. I was willing to trust him not to break my heart by leaving me as Jacob had. I'm not sure why I trusted him in that way; perhaps it was because of the ethereal connection I felt with him. I believed that the odds of him willingly leaving me were almost non-existent, but the odds of him unwillingly leaving me by getting killed in battle were much higher.

I watched my students, most of them sitting quietly with the same paperback in their hands. Only a few were gazing off and daydreaming like me. Toward the beginning of the novel, Jane thought she'd rather die than be without the approval and love of others. She wasn't whole on her own. Was I? If I was, then I could handle it if something should happen to Edward in Iraq. But I didn't feel like I could–I felt like I might shatter into a million pieces if that should happen. Maybe I should talk to Riley because I didn't know how to make it so that I would be okay regardless of what life brought to me. The thought of talking to Riley about this was beyond embarrassing, but I couldn't afford any other therapist.

The bell rang out, jarring me from my arduous thoughts. "Have a good day everyone. See ya tomorrow," I hollered cheerfully as my students hurried through the narrow door like a herd of cattle.

Mr. Bailey had already left for the day for an appointment. I stuffed my notebook and papers to grade in my backpack, turned out the light, and locked the door behind me.

On the drive home, I couldn't shake the feeling that I should call Riley. For the last five days, his business card had been haunting me from its home on the corner of my desk in my bedroom. Every evening when I sat down to check my e-mail, there it was–glaring at me.

Everything seemed to be telling me that I wasn't as healed as I had thought–the nightmares, stupid Jane Eyre, and my friends repeatedly telling me I was making a mistake with Edward. When I came to a stop at a red light, I turned on the radio, hoping some music would get me out of my chaotically confused brain.

A slow, simple melody came through the speakers–a song I'd never heard before. The vocal was one of those distinctive voices that I'd know anywhere, and I immediately recognized it as belonging to Alanis Morissette. This song was a stark contrast to her more familiar ones. I was used to her raunchier lyrics like "_Would she go down on you in a theatre"_ and "_Are you thinking of me when you fuck her?" _Instead, I heard profound prose delivered in a haunting tone:

_That I would be fine even if I went bankrupt;_

_That I would be good if I lost my hair and my youth;_

_That I would be great if I was no longer queen;_

_That I would be grand if I was not all-knowing;_

I was utterly mesmerized. I turned the volume up, trying to decipher each and every word. My hell, was the universe conspiring, trying to send me a message via Alanis and Jane? This was crazy–like _Twilight Zone_ freaky. I'd just been thinking about whether or not I was healed and now Alanis was shouting at me about being good, about being enough, no matter what comes into your life. Okay, she wasn't shouting–she was singing to me–beautifully, tenderly, hauntingly.

As I sped down the 101 Highway toward home, the last words of the song nearly killed me–"_that I would be good whether with or without you."_

I quickly blinked away the tears that had formed so I could see the road clearly. Thankfully, the radio DJ said the name of the song when it ended. I hated it when I fell in love with a song on the radio with no friggin' clue what it was called or who the artist was. I repeated the title to myself a few times, memorizing it–"That I Would Be Good."

A chirp coming out of my purse alerted me to an incoming text message. I blindly felt for my phone, pulling it out of my purse without taking my focus off of the road. I glanced at it quickly, looking between the phone and the highway as I read.

_Picking up dinner for us. See u soon. Al_

I tossed it back in my purse. Yeah, I might read texts while driving, but I'm not a complete asshat–no way would I drive _and_ text. I was pleased I wouldn't have to worry about preparing dinner; I had a stack of essays to read and grade that would keep me busy most of the evening.

When I arrived home, I smelled the food as soon as I walked through the door. "You went to Antonio's Subs? God, you are too good to me, Al!" I hollered, dropping my backpack on the sofa. I hurried into the kitchen where I found Alice pulling sub sandwiches out of a bag.

"Hot pastrami, provolone, and mushrooms–your favorite," Alice announced, setting the giant sandwich in front of me.

"Oh, god, it's been too long. Thank you so much! So how was your day?" I asked before taking a bite and moaning softly as deliciousness assaulted my taste buds.

"It was good. I've just been distracted . . . you know, trying to figure out what I'm going to say to Jasper and when. I should probably just do it sooner rather than later because I'm driving myself crazy."

"Yeah, rip the bandage off quickly, right?"

Alice nodded. "Yeah, I guess. I'm thinking I'll do it Friday night so that I'll have the weekend to somewhat recover before going back to teaching on Monday. I don't want to be all weepy in front of my students."

My mouth was full, so I just nodded as I got up and walked to the refrigerator, pulling out a couple of cans of soda. I set one in front of Alice, plopping back down into my chair. "So did you email Emmett yet?"

"Yep, and he emailed back."

"Did you tell him you're breaking up with Jasper?"

"No. I mean, I don't want to even sort of start anything with Emmett until Jasper and I are officially over, ya know?"

"Yeah, I agree." I took a bite, waiting for her to tell me about their email exchange, but she sat silently, chewing her food.

After a minute or so, I couldn't stand it anymore. "So . . . if you guys didn't talk about Jasper, what did you email about? I mean, what did he have to say?"

"Truthfully, Bella, most of it was about you and Edward."

My head shot up, my eyes wide in surprise. "Really? Uh, so did he say how Edward is?"

"Yes, he did, but I don't think you wanna know, Bella."

I swallowed hard, the food suddenly losing its taste. "Yes, I do–I want to know."

"Ohh-kay, but I warned you. It'll probably be easier if you just read the email. Hang on." She hopped up, leaving the kitchen.

A minute later, she was back with her laptop. She slid it onto the table in front of me and clicked on an email. She pointed to a section of the message from Emmett:

"_You asked how Edward is doing. Honestly, he's a fucking mess. I thought he was bad when he first came back from Iraq, but this is different–it's worse. He's like completely shut down or something. That last week traveling was hell. He was a fucking zombie. He's been drinking a lot, but he won't go out to the bars with me. He drinks at home. I've told him that he's given up too easily, that he should call Bella and try to make her change her mind. But he said that he was being a selfish fuck before, expecting her to be alone so much when he's overseas. He said that he has to respect her decision, and that it's too much to ask of her. So that's how he is doing. How is Bella?"_

The room was deathly silent except for the sound of sniffling and deep breaths that escaped as I tried to control my simmering emotions. "I need to be alone," I whispered, flying out of the kitchen just as a tear fell.

I flung myself onto my bed, immediately breaking down and crying–wailing, really. Reading about how my actions affected Edward so deeply and painfully was almost more than I could bear. Why was I doing this to him, to myself?

Alice's angry words from last week replayed in my mind–_"You had something together that is rare, and you're just fucking throwing it away."_ And that damn song–I couldn't stop thinking about it.

I sat up and grabbed a tissue to clean up my face. Sitting down at my computer, I typed in the song title on YouTube. After I started the video of the song, I did a search for the lyrics so that I could read along as I listened to Alanis sing.

_That I would be loved even when I was fuming_

_That I would be good even if I was clingy_

_That I would be good even if I lost sanity_

_That I would be good whether with or without you_

I wasn't good without Edward after breaking things off, and I wouldn't be good without him if we were a couple, and he didn't return from his deployment. I wasn't healed at all, I realized.

I quietly snuck into the living room, retrieving my backpack. Back at my desk, I pulled my cell phone out and picked up Riley's business card that was sitting next to the computer. I dialed his number.

My heart felt like a jackhammer in my chest as I listened to the phone ringing. I hoped that what I was about to do would help me–so that I would be good, with or without him.

"Hello, Riley Biers here."

"Uh, hi, um, this is Bella."

"Bella? Hey, what a nice surprise. What's goin' on?"

"Well, um . . . I've been thinking, and . . . well, does your offer still stand for that free therapy?"

* * *

**A/N: To my faithful readers who always leave a review–you know who you are. I can't express how grateful I am for your support. **


	20. Loss and Love

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: My betas Pickwicksociety, JenKB, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180 make me look like a better writer than I really am! **

* * *

_**Chapter 20 – Loss and Love**_

_What the fraking frak was I thinking_? I screamed silently at myself. My knuckles were bone white as my fingers gripped the steering wheel with unnecessary strength. When I'd called Riley a couple days ago to set an appointment with him, I'd been in a vulnerable and humble state. Alanis's song, _Jane Eyre_'s thematic message, Gianna's friend who died suddenly, my nightmares, and Emmett's email about Edward had left me no longer sure of anything. My certainty about breaking things off with Edward was faltering; yet I was still unable to change my mind, to open myself up to potential loss. So I had called Riley.

Anticipating the appointment had made my work day especially long and tension-filled. And now, as I pulled into the parking lot of Riley's office building, the thought of discussing my innermost thoughts and fears with a stranger–especially Riley–was embarrassing at best and appalling at worst. The only thing stronger than those negative emotions was the hope that Riley could help me control my fears so that I could possibly be with Edward–_if_ he could ever forgive me for hurting him.

With that hope, I nervously got out of my car and walked toward the suite number that Riley had given me. I inhaled deeply before pulling open the heavy glass door. I entered a small, empty waiting room, decorated in beige and light blue hues. There were six dark wood chairs with blue upholstery and a coffee table littered with magazines. I wondered for a moment what to do before noticing a sign on a closed door: _In Session. Please Have A Seat._

I sat down, dropping my purse onto the chair beside me. It was unnervingly quiet, which only made my anxiety grow. After five very long minutes during which I'd rehearsed what I'd tell Riley about Edward, the door opened.

"I'll see you next Friday, Ethan." I couldn't see him yet, but it was Riley's voice.

A young guy, probably in his early twenties, stepped through the doorway. "Yep, I'll be here. Have a good week." His eyes met mine, and he nodded politely as he headed toward the exit.

"Bella, come on back," Riley said, smiling.

I scooped up my purse, muttering hello as I approached him. His private office continued the same beige and blue décor as in the waiting room, but instead of chairs, a dark brown leather couch lined one wall. Riley instructed me to sit on the sofa while he took a seat in a matching leather recliner placed in front of a large ornate desk.

"I'm glad you're here, Bella."

I didn't know what to say to that; I certainly wasn't glad to be here. So I just nodded, my eyes darting to his for a second before looking back at my fingers, nervously fidgeting in my lap.

"Look, Bella, I know you're probably feeling some anxiety and apprehension about this. Have you ever seen a therapist before?"

"Um, no."

"So you don't really know what to expect. Plus, I'm sure that talking to me in particular is a little awkward. But just know that I intend to conduct these sessions as professionally as I would with anyone else. Also, my _only_ objective is to help you to be at peace in your life."

I nodded shyly. "Okay."

"Well, normally the first session comprises of me gathering information about you. We'll start with a broad overview of your life. As time goes on, we'll delve a little deeper into the details. First, why did you call and make an appointment, and what do you hope to gain by being here?"

"Oh, uh . . . well, a lot of things happened this week that made me realize that maybe I'm not as healed from my divorce as I'd thought. What do I hope to gain by being here? Mmm . . . well, I want to be with Edward, but I just can't seem to make that phone call. I don't want to be afraid anymore."

"Edward is the man you met in Europe, I assume?"

I glanced up, nodding.

"Okay, we'll talk about Edward more in a bit, but first, let's start at the beginning. Tell me about your parents and your childhood."

I spent the next thirty minutes summarizing my parents' personalities and my past and current relationship with each of them. I told him briefly about my mom's mental illness and Seth's drug addiction. Then he wanted to know all about my marriage and divorce. I explained how sudden and permanent Jacob's departure from my life had been. I told him about Operation Nun and how much I'd grown and learned from my marriage and subsequent divorce. And that brought us to Edward. I was as honest as I could be while leaving out intimate details and the depth of my feelings for Edward.

"Things between us happened very quickly–it was pretty intense. Just before I was to leave for the airport to fly back to the States, I'd planned to tell Edward that I wanted to move to Seattle so that we could be together. Before I had that chance, he said that he was going to come to Phoenix to be with me before he had to deploy." I explained to Riley that I hadn't known Edward had reenlisted and that the news was beyond shocking.

"Honestly, I sort of flipped out. I couldn't bear the idea of Edward going back to Iraq. I mean, the chances of him not coming back alive are probably pretty high." I looked up at Riley through watery eyes. "I know what that kind of loss feels like. Jacob didn't die, I know, but it was almost like he had. One day he was in my life, and the next day he wasn't. I haven't seen him since."

"So you broke things off with Edward because the risk was too great?"

"Yes," I whispered, barely audible.

"I understand."

My eyes widened, and I chuckled dramatically. "Well, _finally_, somebody gets it. All my friends think I'm making a mistake. They just don't get it."

"Bella, I didn't say that you're not making a mistake regarding Edward." His words were blunt, but his tone was gentle. "I said that I understand your reaction to learning about Edward's reenlistment."

My smiled faded. "Oh." I paused in contemplation. "Um, so you think I made a mistake?"

"Yes and no. I'm not saying that Edward is the right person for you. I can't possibly know that. But I do know that fear should never dictate our choices. Breaking things off with him because you don't think he's a good match for you would be one thing. But to walk away from him solely because of fear of the unknown is a different issue altogether. Does that make sense?"

"Yes."

It really did make sense. I could look at the situation objectively and know that Edward might possibly return from deployment. Logically, I knew that even if he wasn't in the military, I could lose him in a car accident or he could drop dead from some health issue nobody knew he had, like Gianna's friend. But still . . . when I imagined Edward possibly being killed in Iraq, fear and grief ignited like a back draft, effectively suffocating my voice of reason and logic.

It was as though there were two of me inside my head, battling for dominance. Ms. Logic and Ms. Fear argued incessantly, and no matter how much sense Ms. Logic made, Ms. Fear overpowered her arguments with stifling and paralyzing emotions. Granted, Ms. Fear was irrational in her diatribe, thinking this choice would prevent experiencing loss ever again, but she was decidedly more powerful. I needed Riley to help me take away some of Ms. Fear's control, making room for Ms. Logic to have a stronger voice.

"Bella, you've experienced quite a bit of loss in your life. I believe this has led to what we call 'fear of abandonment.' Although you have a rather close and loving relationship with your father, it doesn't change the fact that your parents' divorce resulted in him being removed from your everyday life. That was a loss.

"In addition, though your mother remained in your life, due to her mental issues, she was never able to be there for you as a child needs. That was and is a loss. You've had to grieve the mother that you needed but never had."

_Holy shit! _It had never occurred to me that I'd suffered any losses in my life other than Jacob. Yet, I knew it was true by the way I was involuntarily responding to Riley's summation with raw emotion. My eyes welled up and my hands trembled. I looked down, trying to hide the embarrassing evidence.

"And Seth is a more recent loss. Drugs have taken away the brother you knew and loved. Even when he's around, he isn't the brother you remember. And you have the constant fear that due to his high-risk lifestyle, he could be taken from you permanently."

By this point, I was literally sobbing. Hearing Riley describe my life and instances of loss that I hadn't ever before acknowledged, left me weeping for the little girl that had cried so hard when missing her daddy that she'd vomited. I sobbed for the little Bella that, even as a nine year old, recognized that her mother was different than other moms. And Seth–anger toward him for his destructive choices had always smothered any sadness or grief. But hearing Riley say aloud that the Seth I knew and practically raised was lost to me, left me grieving him for the very first time.

Riley leaned over, handing me a box of tissues. I rested my elbows on my knees, my hands shielding my face as I tried to quell the uncontrollable tears and emotions.

Riley sat quietly and patiently. After several minutes, I managed to calm down, sniffling and drying my face with a tissue.

"Bella, I know it can be somewhat disconcerting to feel such powerful and rather unpleasant emotions like that. Often our first instinct is to avoid what you just experienced, but feeling the grief and the sadness is the only way to overcome them. It's the only way to remove the ever-present fear from your life. You've done really well today–you've been honest and open. You're going to be just fine, Bella."

I gave him a small smile, dabbing the tissue across my still teary eyes.

"I'd like to see you twice a week. Can you come back next Wednesday at the same time?"

"Okay, yeah."

"Great."

Riley stood up and walked to the door. I followed him, croaking out a quiet "Thank you" as I passed him.

"I hope you have a good weekend, Bella."

* * *

Arriving home, I headed straight to the kitchen. After all that crying, I was parched. I guzzled half a bottle of water, thinking how glad I was that I had the house to myself for a while. I knew I'd confide in Alice about my session with Riley eventually, but right now, I was just too raw. I was simply all talked out.

Tonight was the night–Alice was breaking up with Jasper. Since she wouldn't be home for dinner, and my emotions had killed any appetite I'd had, I decided to skip it altogether. I was utterly exhausted, my limbs as limp and heavy as wet noodles. Knowing I needed to be emotionally prepared to comfort Alice when she came home, I headed to my room, immediately stripping down and covering myself in my baby blue chenille robe.

Slipping across the hall into the bathroom, I tied my hair up so it wouldn't get wet. Disrobing, I stepped into the steaming shower and let out a heavy sigh as the heat hit my body. Standing under the pummeling cascade of water, my tense shoulders immediately relaxed as I tried to process everything Riley had said.

He'd told me that acknowledging and grieving the losses I'd experienced was the only way to get past them and immobilize the fear. My god, I hadn't even known that I had anything to get past–other than Jacob. And until recently, I'd thought I was healed and ready to move on with my life. Now, I felt so broken and defeated, like I'd taken a step backward. Logically, I knew that wasn't true–you can't fix something that you don't even know is broken, so discovering that I was more damaged than I'd thought was a step forward. It's just that it didn't _feel_ like progress. It just felt shitty.

All sense of time eluded me, lost in my thoughts and in the relaxing drone of the water beating against my body. When I looked down and saw my skin was turning pink, I shut off the water. After drying, I slid into the fluffy comfort of my robe and returned to my room. Curling up on my bed, I almost immediately felt myself fade away into a much needed rest.

Two warm hands covered my breasts, kneading them gently while simultaneously stroking my nipples. I couldn't seem to wake up fully until the skilled fingers gently pinched my hardening nipples, forcing an audible moan from my lips. My eyes flew open, and I gasped in surprise and delight to see Edward on his knees, straddling me. My eyes roamed over his bare body, my lust intensifying at the sight of his hard washboard stomach and rippling thigh muscles. And in between those massive thighs, my gaze focused in on his engorged, hard dick at full mast.

"Oh, Edward," I groaned in want. He smirked, fully aware of the power he had over me. His hands left my breasts, moving downward. My eyes followed them, watching his fingers deftly untie my robe, splaying it open to reveal my glistening pussy.

Suddenly, Edward's mouth was at my ear, his warm breath winding me even tighter. He nibbled and sucked my earlobe. "Bella, I miss you," he whispered. Crawling cat-like down the length of my body, he licked and kissed a wet trail toward the ache between my legs. Without any warm-up whatsoever, he licked me–long and hard–from my opening up to my clit. He repeated this motion several times before suctioning his mouth to my clit, his tongue flicking it at a frenzied pace. "Oh, god, Edward." The coil sprung, and I rocked my hips against his mouth, whimpering my pleasure.

I heard a door slam, and I looked down to see–not Edward–but my hand, rubbing against my naked pussy. "What the–"

I quickly pulled my robe closed and scooted to the edge of the bed, still disoriented as I tried to separate reality from fiction. I'd thought that I wanted to have erotic dreams about Edward, but the deep disappointment that it had only been a dream was stinging.

I quickly dressed, assuming the noise that had disrupted my porno dream was Alice arriving home. I wasn't sure she'd feel like talking about Jasper right away, but I at least needed to check on her.

After finding the living room and kitchen empty, I headed to her room and knocked lightly on the door. I barely heard her strangled voice telling me to come in.

Pushing the door open, I crawled onto her bed, positioning myself right next to her. Alice's body was folded up protectively like a roly-poly bug.

"Do you feel like talking about it yet?" I asked softly.

"Oh, fuck, Bella. That sucked balls of goats." She sniffed, clutching a tissue in her fist. Her eyes were swollen and red, remnants of mascara splattered around them. "Really, that sucked worse than anything has ever sucked in my entire life."

"How did he react?" Apparently, she wanted to talk about it, and I was dying to know how it had all went down. Jasper was my friend, too, and I was as concerned about him as I was Alice.

"Worse than I'd imagined actually."

"Really? What did he say?"

Alice came out of the fetal position and turned onto her back, wiping at her watery eyes. "He told me that I have my head in the clouds and that I'm not going to find what I'm looking for because it doesn't exist. According to him, I'm giving up something wonderful because I've bought into the fairytale that Hollywood and the romance novels sell. He said that I'm going to end up alone if that's what I'm holding out for."

I didn't know what the hell to say to that. I racked my brain for comforting words but came up with nothing. God, I was really sucking as a best friend.

"He was really angry, Bella. I'm afraid he'll never forgive me. I don't want to lose his friendship."

Finally, some semblance of wisdom came to me. "He just needs time, Al. It was shocking, and it's natural to react defensively. Anger masks pain. But I don't believe for a second that he'd throw away your friendship. You have too much history, too much of a bond. But he'll need time before he's ready for that."

"You think?" Her voice came out sounding as tiny as her body actually was.

"Yep, I really do," I reassured her, pulling her hand into mine. "Al, would you . . . well, would you be okay with me checking in on Jasper tomorrow?"

She looked up at me, smiling sadly. "I'd be more than okay with that. He needs all the friends he can get right now."

"Okay, good."

We sat quietly for a few minutes before the words that had eluded me before began forming in my mind. "Al, about what Jasper said–that you'd end up all alone?"

She nodded, looking at me expectantly.

"Whether you find what you're looking for or you don't, I think you made the right decision. I think you'd be happier alone than in a relationship where you're constantly struggling to feel something that isn't there. You felt guilty all the time for not being able to love Jasper the way he should be loved. That's no way to live."

Alice pushed up onto her knees, launching herself at me. "You always know just what I need to hear, Bells," she mumbled, hugging me tightly. I smiled and squeezed her back, relieved that my BFF skills had kicked in.

She pulled back, situating herself against the headboard. "In my head, I know you're right. I'm better off alone than in a relationship that is really nothing more than friendship. But . . . it's still scary as hell to walk into the unknown, away from security and stability and familiarity. I'm taking a huge risk. What I _think_ I could have with Emmett might just be an illusion, something exciting because it is new or because it was taboo while we were in Europe. But I'm taking that risk. I just wish you would, too."

My hell, how many times did we have to talk about Edward? She was like a tiny, annoying gnat, constantly buzzing about Edward. "Al, why do you keep pushing me about this? I mean, you don't really know Edward all that well. Why do you care so much whether I'm with him or not?"

"Bella, listen to me," she commanded, her tone authoritative. "I was around Edward enough to know that he is a wonderful human being, a man of character and integrity. Yes, he acts like an ass sometimes, but that isn't who he is. Every instance of asshattery was his PTSD making an appearance." Alice paused, sighing softly. "But more than that, I think you two should be together because I have _never_ seen you look at a man the way you looked at him. I watched you two more than you realize, and you always looked at him with nothing less than adoration. And _fuck_ . . . when he looked back at _you_ . . . I swear to almighty God the air around us became charged with the energy radiating out from you two. I want that for you. It _is_ worth the risk, Bella."

Tears pooled in my eyes, reflecting the stirring emotions inside. Alice's description of Edward and the way we were together wasn't news to me–I'd lived it and felt it, after all. What was news to me was the revelation that the intensity of our connection had been obvious, and even palpable, to observers. Wow–just wow. This new awareness just solidified what I already knew–that what I'd had with Edward was real and, most likely, rare.

"I'm working on it, Al. Um, I saw Riley today."

Her eyes narrowed, her features turning into a scowl.

"Oh, no, not like _that_," I clarified. "I had a therapy session with him."

Her eyes morphed from squinted slits to giant, round saucers. "What . . . the . . . fuck?" Her mouth was as gaping as her eyes. "You've got to be shitting me."

Damn, I thought she'd be thrilled. Clearly, she thought I'd fucked up with Edward, so she should be patting me on the back for getting professional help. "That's not the reaction I expected."

"What? Oh, no! I think it's great. It's just the last thing I expected you to say, that's all. But why Riley? Isn't that a little awkward?"

I nodded. "Riley isn't charging me anything, so I'll just deal with the weirdness. Actually, he made me feel as comfortable as anyone can feel, sitting on a therapist's couch."

"Yeah? Do you want to talk about it?"

"It was pretty intense; I bawled like a big, slobbery baby. So freakin' embarrassing, but he was cool about it, really professional, you know? So apparently, I have issues I didn't even know I had."

"Really?"

"Fear of abandonment was the professional diagnosis. And here I was patting myself on the back, thinking I'd healed so much, thinking I'd learned and grown from my marriage and divorce. It seems I was delusional."

"I think those are two separate issues, Bella. I agree that you're not as healed as we had thought, but that doesn't mean that you didn't learn and change as a human being. You honestly and bravely looked at your faults and tried to improve . . . and you have. Don't discount that."

"Thanks, Al," I said softly.

"What in the hell happened to make you go see Riley? Every time I've talked to you about Edward, you haven't considered even for a moment that you made a mistake."

I told Alice about the previous week, how it had seemed the universe was sending me a message at every turn–in the classroom via _Jane Eyre_, on the radio via Alanis, and on the computer via Emmett.

"It's like, when I think about it with my left brain, I know you're right, Al. Logically, I know I acted irrationally, and I really want to pick up the phone and call Edward. But when I think about it with my right brain, with my emotions, I'm still paralyzed with fear. I'm beginning to realize that the fear is controlling me, and you know how much I like to be in control." I grinned, and Alice burst out laughing.

"No! _Really_?" she teased sarcastically.

I was glad her sad eyes were now happy, even if it was at my expense. I punched her arm playfully as we fell onto our sides, high on giggles.

* * *

Even with two glasses of wine down the hatch on an empty stomach, I just couldn't fall asleep. Glancing at the clock, I huffed in exasperation. I'd been tossing and turning for nearly an hour.

After laughing ourselves silly, Alice had excused herself, only to return a few minutes later with a bottle of wine and two glasses. We ended up talking, laughing, and crying–on repeat–for a few hours as we lounged on her bed, imbibing. I'd left her nearly comatose, her petite frame once again curled up. I'd covered her with the duvet and then got myself ready for bed. Even though I'd napped earlier, I was tired and looked forward to the escape that sleep offered. But while my body was tired, my brain was quite busy fantasizing about Edward, replaying the intensely erotic dream that Alice had disrupted when she came home.

"Goddamnit," I grumbled, yanking out the top-drawer of the nightstand. I angrily snatched up my pastel pink vibrator, jerking my panties down with my other hand.

I was pissed that my whiny cooter was begging for it and preventing me from falling asleep. I was even more ticked, knowing that it wouldn't be enough–the inanimate piece of silicone might settle my hormones, but it would do nothing for my aching heart.

Vibrators were my wanking method of choice. Alice told me once that she could get herself off using her fingers in just five minutes, but I never could. I was impatient by nature, and using only my fingers just took too much time and effort. How Edward could make me climax so quickly with just his fingers, but my own could never do the job–even though I'd had years of practice–was utterly mindboggling to me.

A low hum filled the room as I flipped on my pink pal, swiftly and furiously grinding it against my clit. My hips and legs jerked immediately at the abrupt intensity of sensation. I closed my eyes, conjuring up a memory that was etched into my mind, still clear and vivid.

It was a time in particular when Edward had held my gaze while he reached his orgasm. With his brows furrowed, his jaw tensed, and his biceps bulging as he held his weight over me, he'd kept his sparkling jade eyes open. "Bella, baby . . . oh, fuck," he'd groaned as he came inside me, his eyes on mine.

"Edd-wward, oh, god," I groaned, writhing against the vibrator. My orgasm exploded suddenly and unexpectedly, and my entire body stiffened as the release swept over me. I turned it off, letting it roll out of my hand onto the bed.

"Don't need a man, my ass," I mumbled, my breathing ridiculously loud even to my own ears.

Any woman who says that she doesn't need a man because her vibrator does the job is either a big, fat, pants-on-fire liar, or she's in denial because it's easier than facing the truth, or she's had some pathetically unskilled past lovers. Yeah, I climaxed, but sex is so much more than just an orgasm. The sexual experience I'd just had–alone–was so ridiculously inferior to what I'd experienced with Edward that I felt emptier now than I had before. My girly parts were satisfied, but I was not. An inanimate object couldn't begin to compare to the feel of warm, soft skin against my skin; a masculine, scruffy jaw tickling my breasts; the sensuality of his tongue caressing mine; or the indescribable, almost out-of-body ethereal experience of having another human being inside of me, a human who I adored.

_I fucking hate vibrators_, I decided, rolling over and finally losing myself in sleep.

* * *

After the fourth ring, I anticipated Jasper's voicemail would kick in, so I was startled when his southern drawl floated through the phone. "Hello," he croaked, his voice hoarse and subdued.

"Jasper, it's Bella."

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself. Um, so I was wondering if maybe you'd wanna grab some lunch with me."

Silence.

"Jasper?"

"Oh, sorry, um . . . I dunno, I'm still in bed."

It was eleven in the morning, so he was probably hung over or just really depressed–probably both.

"Well, we could do a late lunch. Say one or two this afternoon? I just . . . well, I thought you could use a friend right now. Not that you don't have other friends. I know you and Riley are close, but I just want you to know that I'm here for you, too. Sometimes it's good to know that someone really understands how you're feeling. I've been there, you know?"

"Yeah, you have been there, haven't you?" He sighed heavily, his tone dripping in melancholy. "Okay, sure. Where do you want to meet?"

"I'm craving a gyro. Does Oliveo's sound good to you?"

"Honestly, nothing sounds good, so it doesn't really matter. I'll meet you there at one o'clock."

"Great. See you then, Jasper."

"Later."

I tossed my cell phone on the bed and looked around my room aimlessly, contemplating how to spend the next few hours. Once again, my thoughts drifted to my session with Riley.

I'd never considered that my dad was part of a pattern of loss in my life, but now that Riley had pointed it out, it seemed so obvious. My mom had robbed me of so many father/daughter experiences by hauling me and Seth off to Phoenix when my parents split up. I wondered how things might have been different had I lived in the same town as my dad while growing up. Would Seth still have escaped into self-medication if he'd had a strong father figure in his life on a daily basis? Would I have so much fear and need for control if my dad had tucked me in every night, always there to insulate me from the neuroses of my mother?

Suddenly, I missed my dad terribly. I'd spoken to him just once since returning from England. I picked up my phone, hitting his speed dial number as I scooted to the top of my bed, settling myself against the pillows.

"Is this my number one daughter?" Dad answered teasingly in his baritone voice.

I giggled. "That's not saying much since I'm your _only_ daughter."

"That's not saying much? I beg to differ. Being my only daughter makes you extra special."

I grinned, basking in his love and sweet words. It was surprising to me that even though I was a grown woman, a compliment from my dad still had amazing power over me. I'd always had him up on a pedestal of sorts. Growing up, he was the handsome man with the dark hair and moustache who took me out to restaurants, taught me how to camp and fish, and even escorted me to the ballet. He could do no wrong in my eyes, and nothing was more important than his acceptance. I wanted him to be proud of me.

"Thanks, Daddy. So is this a good time? I'm not interrupting anything?"

"I always have time for you, Bella. Is there something on your mind?"

"Uh, no. Just thought I'd call and say hey."

"Well, hey back." He chuckled. "How is student teaching going for you?"

"It's wonderful. My mentor teacher is amazing. I couldn't be more pleased."

"I'm glad to hear it, honey. I'm really looking forward to seeing you in May for your graduation."

"Me, too, Dad."

"So I assume Seth is still MIA?"

"Um, yeah, unfortunately."

"Hmmm."

Silence.

More silence.

Though I had no concept what it was like to create and raise a child, I could imagine how painful it must be to watch your child self-destruct, to not even know if he was dead or alive.

"I'm so sorry, Daddy."

"I know, baby," he said, his voice cracking. "You know, I checked the police records in Maricopa County to see if he was arrested in the last few weeks, but there was nothing." He cleared his throat, clearly trying to control his emotions. "I think I'd rather see him in jail than out on the streets."

"I know. At least we'd know he was safe."

We quickly abandoned the topic of Seth as it was a sobering one. Instead, I shared some funny stories about the adventures of Bella and Alice traveling in Europe. I'd never heard my dad laugh as hard as he did when I told him about the unscheduled train stop in France when Alice biffed it while getting off the train with baguette in hand. I was glad to take his mind off of Seth–even for just a few minutes. But, of course, sharing that particular event stirred up torturously sweet thoughts of Edward.

He was always with me–his words, his beauty, and his laugh–but sometimes a specific memory would overwhelm me. In those moments, sadness and longing would sneak up on me when I'd least expect it. And goddamnit if one of those moments wasn't right now. Being the pathetic actress that I am, Dad picked up on my mood swing.

"Bella, what's the matter?"

"Uh, nothing . . . I'm fine."

"I can hear it in your voice, honey. Did something happen when you were over there?"

If I hadn't just sobbed my eyes out last night and wasn't still so emotionally raw from the intense psychological analysis with Riley, I probably would have told my dad about Edward. But I just couldn't talk about it right now . . . again . . . for the hundredth time.

"Yes. I mean, nothing bad, really. I'm just not up to talking about it right now. I'll tell you about it another time, okay, Dad?"

"Sure, honey. Whenever you're ready."

I needed some time to regroup before meeting Jasper, so I quickly ended the phone call. I thought about wallowing in my grief–the pictures of Edward and me in Europe beckoned me from my computer. But I knew that would only intensify my bubbling emotions, and I needed to be balanced and stable for Jasper. I needed a distraction.

I hurried to the living room closet and pulled out the vacuum. After sweeping the living room, I moved on to my bedroom. I wanted to vacuum Alice's room, too, but after being up for a couple of hours, she'd gone back to bed. Grief is exhausting.

I moved on to dusting, hell bent on removing every particle of dust in the house, which was labor-intensive since we lived in a friggin' desert. Somehow the dust and silt of the desert found its way indoors on a daily basis.

Though Edward's image still floated through my thoughts while I cleaned, the physical labor kept the overwhelming emotions at bay for the time being. Finally, I finished my frenzied cleaning spree by not just mopping the kitchen floor but scrubbing it on my hands and knees. Now I was a sweaty mess, which meant I'd have to take another shower before meeting Jasper.

Thirty minutes later, I was showered, dressed, and heading out the door after leaving a note for Alice.

* * *

When I walked into Oliveo's, I knew right away that Jasper hadn't arrived yet. The fast-food Greek restaurant near ASU was rather small with maybe six tables. Being past the lunch rush, there was only one customer in sight. I ordered a soda and then sat at a table in the back, away from the cash register so that we'd have as much privacy as possible.

I played with the straw in my soda, racking my brain for just the right thing to say to Jasper. But I knew all too well that there was absolutely nothing–nothing at all–that I could say that would ease his pain.

The sound of a door chime pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced up to see Jasper sauntering in, sunglasses on and head down. When he approached the table, I stood up and silently pulled him into a hug. He held me tightly, and when he pulled away, I eyed him cautiously. His forlorn face was unshaven, and when he slid into the chair, pulling off his sunglasses, his bloodshot eyes spoke volumes.

"I'm glad you came," I said. "I know you didn't feel like it."

He nodded silently as he hung his glasses from the neckline of his well-worn burgundy ASU Sun Devils' t-shirt.

"Do you want to order?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I'm not really hungry. I'll just get a Coke."

I knew that feeling all too well, having just gotten back some semblance of an appetite in the past couple of days. "Okay, but I'm starving. Give me just a second to order. I'll get you a soda."

I headed over to the cash register and ordered a gyro and fries, returning quickly with Jasper's drink.

As soon as I sat down, Jasper unraveled, his voice trembling. "I just don't fucking get it–_at all_. Alice and I get along really well. We hardly ever fight like some couples. And we enjoy a lot of the same things. We have similar goals and values. And she's just fucking throwing that away for some fairytale that doesn't fucking exist?"

His face was flushed and contorted in anger. He let out a heavy sigh before taking a drink. I waited quietly, but when he didn't continue, I spoke, choosing my words very carefully.

"I don't think it's my place to debate whether what she's looking for exists or not, but regardless, it is the way she feels. She has to be true to herself. I know that doesn't help, and I know it hurts like hell. I will tell you that she's terrified of not having you in her life anymore. You are and always will be one of the most important people in the world to her."

"That doesn't help either," he mumbled.

"I know," I said sadly. "Nothing helps, except . . . time."

"Yeah, yeah, time heals all wounds or some bullshit, right?" He huffed bitterly.

"Jasper, I know it's hard to fathom right now, but I promise that you won't always feel this way. I was about as fucked up as you can get when Jacob left me. I ended up in the ER uncontrollably hysterical, and that was an entire week _after_ he'd left. The wound was so deep that I couldn't envision ever being happy again. But the human psyche is shockingly resilient. It was a long, painful road, but gradually the grief lifted its hold on me."

"Here you go, ma'am," a voice interrupted. A girl, probably a college student, slid the basket holding my lunch onto the table in front of me. "Can I get you anything else?"

"No, thanks, I'm good," I said, as I reached for the ketchup. Off she went, and I looked at Jasper, wondering if he was going to say anything in response to my pep talk.

After a couple of bites of the best gyro on the planet, I changed the subject, spontaneously telling him about my arrangement with Riley. That seemed to get his attention. He asked lots of questions, and I didn't hold anything back. Jasper had this way about him; he put people at ease without really even trying. Before I knew it, I'd laid out my entire soul to him–my losses, my fears, and my hopes.

"You know you need to call him, don't you?" He said it in such a tone that I almost expected him to finish up with the word, "Duh!"

It wasn't the reaction I'd expected, and my mouth opened and closed like a guppy as I tried to articulate a response. "Uhh, well . . . why would you say that, Jasper? You don't even know Edward. He could be an asshole for all you know."

"You wouldn't have that look on your face when you talk about him if he was an asshole, Bella. And Alice told me quite a bit. She seems to think pretty highly of him."

"What look?" I asked, my voice shaking. My god, just casually talking about Edward was like a shot of adrenaline in my heart.

Jasper laughed, which was really good to see. "Are you serious? You should look in the mirror the next time he's the topic of conversation. Bella, your entire countenance changes to . . . I don't know–" His words trailed off as he scratched his stubbled jaw. "Love personified? Yep, you're in love with him."

I probably looked ri-donk-cu-lous, like a freaking deer in headlights. I even had the big brown doe-eyes, and I knew they were wide in shock at being called out by Jasper. Only Riley and Mike knew that I was in love with Edward–thanks to my vodka-and-anger induced reveal that he was the love of my life on the night of Jasper's party. Other than that, I hadn't even admitted to myself the depth of my feelings for him–at least not while sober. The notion had floated around in the back of my mind since the night we'd first made love, but I hadn't overanalyzed it. I'd told myself that I could easily see myself in love with him, but that it was too early to toss around words of that magnitude. I'd managed to just stay in the moment during the time we were together, allowing our relationship to naturally unfold.

But when Jasper said those words, traitorous tears pooled in my eyes instantly, and my inner voice whispered that it was true. "Yes," I said softly.

"Then call him, Bella." Jasper held my gaze, his eyes focused and serious. "You are one of the strongest women I know. Fuck your fears!"

I burst out laughing–why, I have no idea. Just something about hearing him say "fuck your fears" just sounded so funny to me. I giggled and cried, quickly wiping my cheeks with my napkin as I wasn't keen on bawling in public.

"I'm trying." I sniffed, still giggling. "Riley is helping me with the fucking of my fears."

With that, Jasper began coughing, apparently choking on his soda as he laughed really freaking loudly.

After some good old-fashioned medicinal laughter, Jasper said, "Bella, tell me you're going to call him."

"I will . . . just not yet. I need to get my shit together. I'm still petrified when I think about him going back to Iraq. I don't want to feel that way, but I just don't know how to turn it off."

He nodded, smiling. "Okay."

"Hey! I thought this was supposed to be _your_ therapy session, not mine."

"I think it was a dual-session." He smirked before looking down, playing with his straw. "Thank you for calling, Bella. What you said earlier . . . um, the light at the end of the tunnel thing? Well, it does help a little. I mean, if you can get through your husband leaving you, then I can get through this. It doesn't make it hurt any less right now, but . . . I guess I trust you that it'll get better."

* * *

After lunch with Jasper, I called Angela on the off chance she'd be home on a Saturday afternoon. I hadn't spent much time with her in the two weeks I'd been back. Surprisingly, she was home, so I stopped by and hung out with her for a couple of hours. Thankfully, the bulk of our conversation was about her new hot office affair with Ben, the douche bag. At least, that's what she'd thought of him until recently. Now, she had nothing but good things to say about him, but he still hadn't asked her out. I told her to ask _him_ out. We weren't living in the 1950s, I'd told her.

I made a few stops on the way home, picking up a DVD, some Chinese take-out, and Alice's favorite ice cream. Last night we'd drowned ourselves in wine; tonight the drug of choice would be sugar à la Ben and Jerry.

"Al," I called out as soon as I stepped through the door. "It's a Chunky Monkey night!"

I went straight to the kitchen, depositing the two mini-cartons of banana ice cream with walnuts and chocolate chunks in the freezer. I turned around just as Alice walked in wearing the same lounge clothes she'd had on this morning.

I picked up the DVD from the table, holding it up for her to see. "_The Hangover_ and Chunky Monkey–a match made in heaven," I announced dramatically. "You game?"

She grinned. "You're the best, Bells."

While gorging ourselves on Moo Goo Gai Pan, egg rolls, and ice cream, we laughed our asses off during the movie even though it was the third time we'd seen it. That kind of ridiculous shit just doesn't get old.

When the movie ended, I told her about the epiphany I'd had during my talk with Jasper–that I was, in fact, in love with Edward.

"I know that I'll call him eventually," I admitted. "Hell, I want to call him _now_, but I just don't know what to say because I'm _not_ okay with him deploying. I still feel the same gut-wrenching panic that I did when I left Edward in that hotel room. All that's changed is that now I recognize my reaction for what it was–an irrational decision based on fear. But it's still there, you know?"

Alice's grin nearly swallowed up her entire face, and it was so genuine, I nearly cried. "I can't tell you how fucking happy I am to hear you say that, Bella. I'm telling you–you belong with Edward."

"Don't get too happy, Al. You're assuming he's just going to waltz back into my arms the second I call. I know I really hurt him. He might not be willing to open himself back up to that kind of vulnerability again."

"If you think that, then, clearly, you weren't able to see the forest through the trees when you two were together."

"Huh?" I squinted at her, my lips pursed. "What is this forest of which you speak?" I deadpanned.

Alice let out a tiny cackle of laughter. "The forest of loovve, baby," she said, attempting a deep, sexy Luther Vandross voice but failing. We cracked up at the pathetic imitation, guffawing like goofy girls.

"What are you talking about?" I managed to get out while still laughing.

"Bella, I've always believed in love at first sight because of my parents, but I'd never seen it begin and evolve with my own eyes until you and Edward. Yes, you hurt him, but he's in love with you, silly. Where there's love, there's forgiveness."

"I'm going to hang on to that and hope you're right."

"Oh, I'm right," she said authoritatively.

"So how are you feeling compared to last night?" I asked, not wanting everything to be about me.

"Well, I think I got all the tears out, so I'm not as emotional, but I'm still sad. Just sad that he's hurting and sad that he might not want to be a part of my life at all."

"I know. It will get better though."

She nodded as her tiny, elegant fingers covered a yawn. "Damn, I'm tired. All this emo shit is fucking exhausting." She stood up slowly, stretching her arms over her head. "I'm outta here, Bells."

"Okay, sweet dreams."

I leaned back into the softness of the leather sofa, smiling to myself as I contemplated the possibility that Edward might love me. Alice seemed certain of it, and I'd learned over the years that she had a sort of sixth sense about things.

I closed my eyes, and for the first time since I'd left Edward, I welcomed the memories of him, allowing them to flicker across the movie screen in my mind. I remembered our first kiss in Munich, which I had thought would be our last. I giggled, recalling how he'd scared the bejesus out of me on the train when I'd lost myself while listening to my iPod. And what an amazing day we'd had in Florence–the first time we'd had time just to ourselves. Strolling through the Boboli Gardens with him was magical, especially when I'd surprised us both by kissing him. I saw us sitting in the dorm common room after he came back for me, and I heard the emotion in his voice when he told me that he hadn't known he would miss me so profoundly. I felt his arms around me as we waltzed in the ballroom in Bath, and my body literally tingled, recalling the sultriness of his voice as he sang to me.

I always _felt_ loved when I was with Edward–the way he'd cradle my face in his beautiful hands, like he was holding something precious, and the indescribable look in his eyes when he gazed into mine. There was something in his eyes when he looked at me; and the way he talked to me, always valuing my opinions; and how he listened to me as though I was spouting the answers to the mysteries of life. Simply put, I felt adored–I felt loved. "Edward loves me," I whispered, my epiphany bringing tears to my eyes and a new peace to my heart.

I sprung up from the couch, practically flying into my bedroom. I needed to feel close to Edward–I needed to see him. After a few clicks of the mouse, Edward's image filled the screen of my computer. I began a slideshow of pictures, indulging my need to feel connected to him. For several minutes, I smiled and giggled and cried happy tears as I looked at every single picture I'd taken of the four of us during that last week that we traveled together.

With my longing for him not at all satiated but only increasing in intensity, I opened Facebook. Emmett was my only connection to Edward. And Emmett was my friend, too, so I could check in with him and say hello, or maybe I'd just poke him. As soon as Emmett's profile came into view, my eyes darted to a picture on his wall. A flash of familiar bronze hair leaped off the screen. With my heart fluttering excitedly, I clicked on the photo to see a bigger version of it. I gasped out loud.

The happy flutter of my heart morphed into a strangling, thunderous pounding. The picture was of Edward, holding a beer bottle in one hand, his other arm wrapped tightly around a stunning woman with long, straight blonde hair. His hand gripped her hip, pulling her body snuggly against him. On his other side was another voluptuous, model-like blonde. One arm was thrown around his neck while her other hand rested on his chest. And her lips were on his cheek. Edward was smiling–a genuine smile–clearly comfortable with and accepting of the two blonde bombshells shamelessly hanging all over him.

_Maybe it was an old picture_, I thought. I really fucking hoped so. Not that he couldn't do whatever the hell he wanted because, technically, he was single. But I was too, and yet, I couldn't fathom allowing another man's hands on me right now. We may have broken up, but my heart was still Edward's.

My eyes darted across the screen, focusing in on the title beneath the photo. _April 6, 2007-High Dive Bar, Seattle_. My heart sank. The picture was taken just last night.

"What the fuck?" I laughed bitterly. "He loves me?" I spewed the words that I'd embraced just a few minutes ago. "Right! You're a fucking fool, Bella."

* * *

**A/N: Oh, come on, don't throw things. I know you secretly love those cliffies, don't you? **


	21. Mind Fuckery and Ass Whippings

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**My betas - Pickwicksociety, JenKB, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180 – are the BEST!**

* * *

_**Chapter 21 – Mind Fuckery and Ass Whippings**_

I awoke on Sunday morning feeling like the living dead, having slept fitfully, but somehow the anger I'd gone to sleep with had mysteriously receded overnight. Upon seeing the picture of Edward with the two blonde bimbettes, my first instinct was to write a nasty-gram on Emmett's Facebook wall. My fingers had been poised on the keyboard as my broken heart strung together fragmented messages: _I'm so happy Edward seems to be feeling better–that didn't take long. It seems my guilt these past two weeks was unfounded. _

But, fortunately, I'd paused long enough to rein in the impulsive need to lash out. I wasn't fifteen anymore. I was a grown woman, and such behavior would be undignified and immature. Instead, I'd turned off the computer, crawling into bed to escape my ironically sad reality. Maybe irony was just a tidy label for "the universe is fucking with you" because just when I'd begun to believe I might be able to free myself from the fear of Edward's deployment, and just when I'd acknowledged to myself that I was crazy in love with him, I'd learned that his feelings for me were not what I'd believed.

I sighed at that thought, sipping from my cup of steaming coffee while staring blankly at the emerging red blooms of the bougainvilleas, their trailing vines swallowing up the dingy block wall. It was a beautiful spring morning in the valley of the sun–neither hot nor cold. Hypnotized by the flowering crimson wall, I acknowledged that Edward had every right to move on. My initial anger had yielded to sad resignation. I'd been so certain that Edward's feelings ran as deeply as mine, and so it was unsettling to realize that I was wrong. I'd been wrong about Jacob, and I was wrong about Edward. I was beginning to believe that I shouldn't trust my own judgment as it seemed that I was unable to read people accurately. This realization was more than just a little unsettling–it was terrifying.

Obviously, Edward had liked me, but if his affection for me was as strong as mine for him, he wouldn't have been canoodling with girls in a bar. I didn't even want to look at another man, and the idea of someone other than Edward flirting and hanging all over me was actually repulsive.

Setting my coffee mug on the glass top of the wrought-iron table, I picked up my pen and began jotting down random thoughts. Writing my feelings in a journal had been a lifeline for me since my twelfth birthday. My dad had given me a diary for my birthday, and I'd been writing regularly ever since, evidenced by a large box in my closet that held about twenty notebooks detailing my life.

Writing was cathartic for me. Sometimes through putting pen to paper, a solution to a problem would become clear, or I'd become more self-aware about the inner workings of my psyche. Even if neither of those things happened, writing purged me of the toxicity of negative emotions. Picturing myself in Edward's arms, his green eyes smiling at me, my pen began moving across the paper.

_Like a rose without scent,_

_Like a dance without music,_

_Like a world without sunsets…_

_Oh, hell!_ I cringed, realizing I'd just written really shitty, clichéd poetry. I chuckled, shaking my head. It didn't matter, I supposed, as it was for my eyes only. I started again, trying to give a voice to the swirling emotions inside that beat against my chest, needing to be freed.

_Emptiness,_

_Full to the brim._

_Confusion is part of me,_

_That much is clear._

_Submerged in showers_

_Of Paradoxes._

That was a little better; I kind of liked it. It wasn't Wordsworth quality, but it was mine.

Last week, Mr. Bailey had given me responsibility for teaching a poetry unit to his tenth grade class. I'd defined and given examples to the students of several poetic devices, such as metaphor, simile, personification, and alliteration. Pushing aside my journal, I picked up the stack of poems the class had turned in on Friday. Reading adolescents' attempts at writing poetry would surely distract me from my sullen musings.

As I read and graded the poems, I took a large gulp of my now tepid coffee. They were easy to grade. The assignment was to write a poem utilizing at least three poetic devices. They either did that or they didn't–whether the poem was crap or not didn't matter. Certainly a few of the poems were cringe-worthy, but I was exhilarated to discover a few that were rather outstanding.

About thirty minutes later, with my coffee mug empty and the poems graded, I went back inside. After showering, I ate a quick lunch of leftover pasta salad before deciding to succumb to self-indulgence by watching _Pride and Prejudice_–the Colin Firth version, of course. It was not only self-indulgent but decidedly masochistic of me. I was okay with that because sometimes a good down-and-dirty wallowing in your misery is necessary before you can get beyond it. However, proper wallowing must be done alone, so I was glad that Alice was with her parents having brunch for a few hours.

I was doing quite well holding myself together until the scene where Mr. Darcy unexpectedly discovers Elizabeth at his home, and together they walk through the beautiful gardens of Pemberley Park. Tears pricked at my eyes, blurring the television screen as I replayed the memory of strolling through Boboli Gardens arm in arm with Edward. Closing my eyes, I bit my bottom lip hard, preferring physical pain over the paralyzing longing that gripped me. My chest fucking ached with want and yearning to be back in that moment with Edward–or in _any_ moment with him. I missed him so deeply. I allowed myself a good cry before turning off the television and padding off to the bathroom to clean up my tear-stained face.

A few minutes later, I came out of the bathroom, heading toward my bedroom.

"Ohhh, sweet Jesus," I yelped, almost colliding with Alice. "You scared the freaking shit out of me, woman."

"I'm sorry, Bella," she said, though given her howls of laughter, I didn't quite believe the apology.

Wrapping her arms around her waist, she bent over as she giggled. "Your face–oh, god–your expression was fucking hilarious."

I smiled. "It's good to hear you laughing . . . even though you nearly put me into cardiac arrest, but anything for you, darling."

She stopped laughing abruptly and looked at me perplexedly. "Bella? Have you been crying?"

Ever observant, she could see the same bloodshot, swollen eyes that had been staring back at me in the bathroom mirror. "Uh, maybe . . . sort of . . . um, yeah." There was no point denying it. I'd learned from experience that Alice was practically clairvoyant.

"Did something happen, or were you just thinking about Edward?"

"Um, both, I guess?"

"Let's sit," she instructed, grabbing my hand and leading me to the living room.

I sat next to her on the sofa, pulling my feet up under me. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding before meeting her eyes. "Have you seen the picture of Edward on Emmett's Facebook page?"

Her eyebrows lifted above her narrowed eyes. "Do you mean the pictures from last night at the bar?"

I nodded.

"Yeah, I saw them." She looked at me blankly. "And?"

"_And_ . . . didn't you see the two blonde Barbie dolls Edward was hanging out with? I thought he was so heartbroken that Emmett couldn't even get him to go out?"

Alice's mouth fell open, and she reached out, taking my hand in hers. "Oh, honey, no, no, no!" She squeezed my hand comfortingly. "They were with Irina and Kate; they've known them since like third grade or something. Emmett said they're like sisters to them."

"What?" I whispered, my pulse quickening with hope.

"Emmett said he still had to practically kick Edward's ass to get him to go out, and the only reason he went was because they haven't seen the girls in a couple of years since they moved to California. They were in town for a family birthday or something."

I stared at Alice, blinking blindly as I processed her words. Feeling emotionally whiplashed, I burst into tears and laughter at the same time, covering my face with my hands. I flopped back, resting my head on the sofa. "Oh, thank Christ! I am such a freaking idiot," I sputtered through my cupped hands. I looked at Alice, smiling like a goon as I tried to dry my tear-stained cheeks with my hands. "I thought . . . oh, god . . . I thought that–"

"You thought Edward had already forgotten about you and was whoring it up?"

I nodded, and Alice looked at me, astonishment etched in her features. "I don't know whether I want to comfort you or smack you! That was some stellar dumbfuckery thinking, Bella!"

"Apparently, and I've never been so happy to admit to being a dumbfuck." I giggled, still grinning ear to ear.

"Bella, why would you automatically think the worst? I don't understand."

"I don't know!" I said exasperatedly. "I just . . . I'm not sure. I guess my fears clouded my judgment." I shrugged, trying to make sense of my convoluted train of thought. "I saw my fears reflected in the picture or some psychobabble like that."

* * *

The next few days passed quickly. I kept myself busy with teaching during the day and preparing lessons in the evening. Before I knew it, Wednesday had arrived, and I found myself sitting on Riley's leather couch beginning another therapy session.

"Bella, people whose lives are controlled by fear of abandonment typically exhibit one of three different behavior patterns." Riley twirled his pen in his fingers, his tone professional and soothing.

"Some people compulsively reach out to others–to anyone–to have around them. They might panic if someone doesn't call them back or is late. They might even become angry and threatening, trying to manipulate the person to stay with them.

"On the other end of the spectrum, some people with fear of abandonment become very submissive and acquiesce to the important people in their life so as to not upset them. They tiptoe around, fearful of doing something that would make their loved one leave.

"But others go still in another direction and push people away in an attempt to protect themselves from being left, from being abandoned. Even if the relationship is going well, the person being controlled by fear of abandonment might be compelled to leave the relationship, believing that it's only a matter of time before something goes wrong. This is what you've done with Edward, correct?"

"Um, yeah, I guess so," I answered sheepishly.

Riley smiled, his eyes full of what could only be described as compassion. "Bella, it's nothing to be ashamed of. You've suffered some significant losses. Your reaction to Edward's news was an automatic and unconscious attempt to protect yourself. But remember–you came out of the grief and suffering when your marriage ended. You triumphed. And if something happened to Edward in Iraq, you would endure it and survive yet again."

"I know you're right. I mean, I learned from the hell I went through with Jacob that I'm stronger than I ever thought." I couldn't hold his gaze, my eyes wandering to my fingers as I picked at my cuticle. "It's just that . . . I don't ever want to feel that kind of pain and despair again. I know it would pass eventually, but going through it is utter hell."

"I understand. It's human nature to want to avoid pain, but without sadness there can be no joy. Without risk, there is no reward. I know those are just words to you right now. You know cerebrally that what I'm saying is true, but your fear is overpowering your logic. So our task is to acknowledge the fear, talk it out, face it head on, and by doing so, it begins to lose power over you."

I nodded. "Okay."

"Today we're going to return to the beginning. What are some of your memories from around the time your mom took you away from your dad when they divorced?"

Well, damn. What had I gotten myself into? I let out a shaky breath, digging deeply to retrieve shards of memories of a little girl who couldn't understand why Daddy wasn't around anymore.

* * *

"How was it?" I repeated her question sarcastically before stuffing a salsa-laden tortilla chip into my mouth. After washing it down with a generous gulp of a mango margarita, I answered, "Well, it was the same as my session on Wednesday–absolutely freaking exhausting."

I'd come straight from my appointment with Riley to the restaurant for Friday night happy hour with Alice.

"You're going to stick with it though, right?" Alice urged, her hands cradling a gargantuan margarita glass.

I think Alice's margarita might have been bigger than her head, which meant that if she drank even half of it, I would have to insist she leave her car here and drive her home in mine. Either that or we'd need to have a six hour dinner until the alcohol filtered through her system.

"Yesss," I answered, rolling my eyes disdainfully. "But I totally get why people refuse to go to counseling or quit after a few sessions. It's brutal. But I suppose I have extra incentive to get my shit together–a very intelligent, charming, and sexy-as-hell incentive."

I giggled, popping another chip into my mouth. Holy mother duck, the chips and salsa at this joint were freaking addictive. I pushed the basket of crispy-corn-saturated-fat goodness across the table toward Alice. "Pleeease, get these evil things away from me. I'm out of control."

"And we both know how much you like to be in control!" Alice deadpanned, grinning mischievously.

"Har-dee-har-har, funny girl. Why do you think I'm in therapy?" I paused as a thought occurred to me. "Um, by the way, I know you've been in touch with Emmett. It probably goes without saying, but could you not say anything to Em about me seeing a shrink?"

"Yes, of course that goes without saying. That's nobody's business but your own."

"Soo . . . you've been emailing Emmett or what?"

"Yes, at first, but lately we've been talking on the phone."

"And? Have you two finally said the words-that-could-not-be-said when you were in Europe?"

Alice chuckled. "What words? Do you mean 'Emmett, I wanna fuck you into next year'? Or 'I want to make like a stripper and slide down your pole'? Or maybe "Em, I want to blow you harder than a hurricane'?"

I snickered, shaking my head in amusement and admiration that she could say that shit without blinking. "No, that's not what I had in mind, but it would probably get his attention. No point in mincing words, right?"

"Though it's true I want to ride him like the Pony Express, that's not what I said. But, yeah, we've admitted that there's an attraction and interest there. In fact, we're planning for me to fly up to Seattle for a visit after graduation."

My eyes popped open. "Holy shit! For reals?"

I knew Alice was a go-getter, so I shouldn't have been surprised she was being proactive and going after what she wanted. I was happy for her; she was still dealing with the guilt from hurting Jasper and the sadness in losing him from her life–at least temporarily. I was certain that in time they would mend their friendship. She deserved happiness, and I honestly hoped she would find it with Emmett. Still, a twinge of envy swept over me at the thought of her going to Seattle. Most likely, she'd see Edward.

"Yep, and I'm really hoping you'll come with me to see Edward," she added.

"I don't know, Al. I mean, I want to. I ache to see Edward again more

than . . . more than I need air. But as soon as I imagine him leaving for the war zone for who knows how long, I am freaking paralyzed with panic. I just don't know how long it's going to take me to get past that."

"I know, but it could be something you work toward. Graduation is May 18th, and I'm flying to Seattle a couple of days later. Just keep May in your head as a goal, okay?"

"Yes, absolutely." I nodded with a smile, feeling even more determined to take the power away from the fear that controlled me.

* * *

Another week of teaching dragged by, along with two more therapy sessions. Riley always pushed me to my limit, reliving memories and articulating emotions I didn't even know I had. It was often painful and exhausting–mentally and emotionally. So much so that I'm not certain I would have continued if not for the very motivating potential reward at the end of the therapy mindfuckery tunnel–one Edward Cullen.

And so it was with my eye on that priceless prize that I busied myself with lesson plans, teaching, grading, and each Wednesday and Friday, with therapy sessions. I didn't go out. I didn't party. I didn't hang out with friends except for Alice. I was like a fierce Spanish bull hypnotized by the enticing red cape, which in my case was graduation from ASU and reuniting with Edward. I could see nothing else.

It was with that mindset that I put pen to paper as I lay curled up on my side on my bed. Alice was gone once again for her traditional Sunday brunch with her parents. On Friday, Riley had given me another homework assignment. This time I was to make a list of all the important people in my life and determine how devastated I would be if those people left me. Riley explained that it would show to what degree I was dependent on them. I couldn't control the roll of my eyes when Riley had explained the assignment. He just chuckled, saying that I didn't have to understand the psychological reason for the exercise–I just had to do it.

The easy part was writing down the names of the important people in my life. The hard part was articulating how devastated I would be if they left. How in the hell do you quantify such a thing? Maybe I should do a rating scale. On a scale of one to ten, how much would I want to slit my wrists if my dad left . . . or died? My mom? Alice? Seth?

I tossed aside my pen, rubbing my eyes as anxiety crept over me. Fucking Seth. It wasn't exactly a hypothetical question when it came to Seth. He'd already left me–choosing drugs over his family–and death was a very real possibility.

I scooted off the bed, settling in front of the computer. I quickly opened Facebook, hoping to find some recent activity on Seth's profile. I hadn't checked it in a few weeks. If he would just post one freaking thing then I'd at least have some peace knowing he was still alive. I clicked on his profile only to be met with disappointment. Nothing. No activity. No Seth.

* * *

What a difference a week can make. I'd gone from turning down all offers to get out of the house and socialize to being the one to organize and plan a Saturday outing with my girlfriends.

Since I'd last seen Edward over five weeks ago, I hadn't really been enjoying life. I'd reluctantly attended Jasper's birthday party, and I'd hung out with Alice for a couple of happy hours, but other than that, I had turned down every single social invitation from friends and family. I didn't feel like socializing because I wasn't happy; I was hopeful and focused, but I wasn't happy. I told myself that I was simply single-minded, busy with teaching and with therapy, but in reality, I was still wallowing in my solitary life, grieving being apart from Edward. I insulated myself in a cocoon of teaching, therapy and daydreams of my Adonis. When Riley discovered my lack of social life yesterday during our Friday session, he had words for me, to say the least.

"Bella, I looked up the lyrics for that song you told me about–the one that played a part in your decision to start therapy." Riley stood up and walked behind the desk, pulling a file out from a drawer. Returning to his brown leather chair, he sat down and opened the folder, retrieving a piece of paper. "Humor me while I refresh your memory with some of the lines of the lyric.

_That I would be grand if I was not all knowing  
That I would be loved even when I numb myself  
That I would be good even when I am overwhelmed  
That I would be loved even when I was fuming  
That I would be good even if I was clingy  
That I would be good even if I lost sanity  
That I would be good  
Whether with or without you."_

Riley closed the file, looking up at me with a cocked eyebrow. "Bella, shutting friends and family out of your life is not 'being good without him,' as the song says. Yes, it's normal and even healthy, to a degree, to hide yourself away and lick your wounds. But at some point, it becomes counterproductive, and then you have to 'fake it until you make it.'" He smiled, making air quotes with his fingers.

"Also, I know you've been working hard to get to a place where you can take the risk with Edward. He's a big motivation for you being here, but you seem to have put your life on hold, waiting for the time you can be reunited with him. But what if he doesn't take you back, Bella? You need to be prepared for that and not wait for him to make you happy. You have to get out there and enjoy life even if you have to pretend at first. You need to find your own happiness–without him."

I sighed. I wanted to argue with him, but a little voice inside me said that he was right on the money. "You're a damn good psychologist, Mr. Biers." I chuckled, giving him a small smile.

He returned the smile. "Well, thank you, but that remains to be seen. So, Bella, your next homework assignment is to do at least one thing with friends or family this weekend–something that takes you _out_ of your house. Agreed?"

"Yes, sir!"

And that is why I found myself on a warm spring Sunday afternoon with my legs spread wider than I thought physically possible. _I wished my legs were spread for Edward instead of you, Smokey,_ I thought, looking down in amazement at the massive girth of the black horse beneath me.

"Are you okay, Bella?" Angela asked, not even trying to hide her mocking laughter. "You look like you're about to blow chunks!"

"Well, if I do, I'll be sure to blow them your way, bi-atch."

Alice giggled. "Seriously, Bella, are you all right?"

"God, you twits, shut it! Everyone is looking at me now. Sheesh!" I shook my head in exaggerated irritation. "I'm fine. I just . . . I had no idea horses were so freaking tall."

Angela and Alice looked at each other, bursting into loud laughter again. The other riders in our group eyed us curiously.

"You didn't know that horses are tall? Really?" Alice's voice was sarcastic but playful.

"You know what the flip I mean! Yes, I knew they were tall, but I didn't realize just how scary big they are until I got up here. The ground is too far away. It's gonna hurt like hell if I fall off."

"Relax, Bella. These aren't bucking broncos," Angela reassured me. "They're ridden by inexperienced riders every day."

"And this was _your_ idea, Bella," Alice added.

"I know, I know. That doesn't mean I can't be nervous."

I had taken my assignment from Riley seriously. If I had to get out of my cozy cocoon, I was going to explore life to the fullest by doing something outside of my comfort zone. With some help from Google, I'd found a place in Mesa on the outskirts of the city that offered horseback riding.

Our guide whistled, quickly getting everyone's attention. "Okay, listen up. I'm Ricky, and I'll be your guide. It's a beautiful day for horseback riding through the Sonoran Desert. For the most part, the horses will follow me and stick with the group. However, it's still important that you know how to guide your horse."

Ricky proceeded to instruct us on the basics of horseback riding. He explained how to get the horse to walk or run by hitting the sides of the animal with your heels. He told us to pull on the rein to tell the horse to stop, and tug on the right rein to get the horse to turn to the right and vice versa. It sounded simple enough.

As Ricky took off toward the trail, I nudged Smokey with my heels. He followed the other riders at a leisurely pace, and after a few minutes, I began to relax and enjoy the experience. There was a slight breeze dancing across my skin, and I took in my surroundings with a peaceful smile. We passed a Saguaro cactus that had to be at least ten feet tall. There were several Prickly Pear cactus, sagebrush, and lots of little plants and shrubs that I had no idea what they were called. The scenery was beautiful in a deserty kind of way, though I much preferred the lively green of Washington . . . and the green of Edward's eyes, but I digress.

"This was a brill idea, Bella. I haven't been riding in years," Alice said, looking back at me.

Angela was also up ahead of me near Alice. She looked over her shoulder and yelled, "Are you enjoying yourself now, Bella?"

"Yeah, I'm good," I shouted back. They were getting further and further ahead. I looked around, suddenly realizing that everyone was passing me by. I nudged Smokey with my heels to get him to speed up, but he continued with his lazy pace. I nudged him again–nothing.

I looked up to see the group ascending a small hill. As Smokey and I approached the hill, he stopped. He just stopped walking. I hit his sides, but he wouldn't budge. I glanced up to see everyone at the top of the hill, staring down at me as they waited. I was the very last one.

Ricky hollered, "Dig your heels into his side!"

"I did!" I yelled back.

"Harder," Ricky instructed.

I kicked my legs straight out and then pulled them back in with force, hitting Smokey's sides with my heels. Nada. Apparently, Smokey was tired or he needed to take a dump or something, but that boy was not moving.

I looked up again, unsure what to do. I had about fifteen pairs of eyeballs on me. Well, this was all kinds of embarrassing, and Alice and Angela weren't helping. They were laughing at me. Alice stopped her guffawing long enough to cup her hands around her mouth as she shouted, "Bella, kick him with everything you've got!"

It just felt wrong to kick a horse as hard as I could. Ricky must have been a freaking mind reader because following Alice's command, he bellowed, "You're won't hurt him. Kick him hard!"

So I did. I kicked old Smokey as hard as my skinny little legs could manage.

"Aaahhh! Oh, my god!" I screamed loud and hard as Smokey hauled ass up the hill. He didn't trot. He didn't even gallop. He tore up the embankment like his tail was on fire, and I screamed like Freddy Krueger's next victim. Very quickly, I realized I better lift my butt off the saddle because it was giving me a brutal ass whipping.

When we got to the top of the hill, Smokey slowed, coming to a stop amongst the other horses. I was panting heavily, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it might burst. "Holy shit," I muttered to nobody in particular. Still in a daze, I looked at Angela and Alice who were, of course, laughing their asses off.

"Are you all right, ma'am?" Ricky asked as he sidled up next to me.

"Um, yeah, I just didn't expect that." I chuckled nervously.

"Well, sorry about that. Smokey is harmless, but he does have a mind of his own at times," Ricky explained, smirking.

He turned and trotted away, calling out to the group to follow. Fortunately, Smokey began following behind without needing to be directed. I was scared to try to tell him to do anything now for fear that he'd decide to pretend he was in the Kentucky Derby again.

Alice and Angela trotted up, falling into formation next to me. "Bella, what I wouldn't give to have gotten that on video. We could have won $10,000 on _America's Funniest Videos._"

Angela laughed heartily. "No kidding! The expression on your face as you came up the hill was hilarious."

I huffed, looking at Angela and then back at Alice with mock disdain. "You guys suck! No comforting words? No 'Are you okay, Bella'? You bitches are the worst friends in the history of BFFs." The words were harsh, but I flashed them a teasing smile.

In reality, I'd gladly suffer another good ass whipping by Smokey if it would bring momentary laughter and levity to Alice. Though she was enjoying the budding of something new with Emmett, it didn't erase the void in her life left by Jasper. As she grieved the loss of that relationship, her smiles had been few and far between.

After Riley had chided me for waiting for Edward to make me happy, it dawned on me that I hadn't been a very good friend to Alice through this difficult time in her life. Yes, we'd had several heart to heart talks about Jasper at home in the evenings or on the weekends. I had been there for her in that way, but I should have made an effort to get _her_ out of the house. I should have helped fill the gaping hole in her life left by Jasper. I should have distracted her by taking her shopping or going to see a movie together. I'd been wholly self-centered, but that was all going to change, starting with our horseback riding adventure.

The terrain suddenly changed as we rode up a slight incline. My chest tightened anxiously when I glanced to my right. There was nothing there–meaning there was about a fifteen foot drop. Smokey trotted along the very edge of the mini-cliff. There was plenty of room for him to move to the left, away from the edge, but he seemed perfectly comfortable with walking as close to the ledge as he could possibly get. I considered tugging on the left rein to get him to move in that direction, but what if he obstinately pulled back to the right, throwing us off the cliff? Or what if he reacted to my guidance by hauling tail again? As nervous as I was riding along the ledge, I was even more scared to incur Smokey's stubborn response. I held my breath, telling myself to not look down. Keeping my focus on the horizon ahead, I tried to reassure myself that Smokey wasn't stupid–he wouldn't step off of a freaking cliff. Even a horse has an innate sense of self-preservation, right?

As we passed the narrow trail and I had solid ground on all sides, I blew out a heavy sigh of relief. Trying to be a good friend since I'd virtually ignored Angela for the past few weeks, I turned my attention to her.

"Ang, you've been oddly quiet about your love life. Did you ever ask Douche Bag Ben out on a date per my advice?"

"Um, not exactly. And don't call him a douche bag."

"You said it first, girlie."

"I know, but I was wrong. He's pretty wonderful actually."

Alice chimed in. "Then you need to go after what you want, Angela. Why haven't you asked him out?"

"I don't know. I'm scared that he'll turn me down. I mean, if he wanted to date me, then he would have asked, right?"

Alice chuckled. "Oh, pee-shaw! Are you kidding? He's probably just as scared of being rejected as you are. You could ask him in a way that isn't quite so nerve-wracking–something that's not face-to-face. We can get creative. Maybe a puzzle or scavenger hunt, or you could leave secret admirer notes on his desk?"

"Oh, I like it, Al!" I looked at Angela, smiling. "How about we go to lunch when we're done here and we can brainstorm? Sound good, Angela?"

She smiled broadly. "Yes, absolutely. You guys are the best!"

I giggled, my heart swelling with gratitude. A genuine smile spread across my face as I took in the rugged beauty of the mesas in the horizon, the dry southwestern breeze lifting my hair. I missed Edward terribly, but in that moment I began to focus on all the wonder in my life. I had a vibrant and healthy body. I enjoyed the love and support of the dearest, most loyal friends. I was about to graduate from college and begin a career that I was passionate about. I wanted Edward; I loved him. But my happiness could not be dependent on another person. Maybe it _was_ possible. Perhaps I could be good–with or without him.

* * *

**A/N: I know you all miss Edward…so does Bella. Be patient. I promise that Edward will be back very, very soon - in a way you're not expecting. Please stay tuned! **

**Props to the wonderfully talented gutter mind of Mandaliz for her one-liners that Alice used to describe how badly she wants to "take a ride on Emmett's disco stick." **


	22. Between the Shadow and the Soul

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: My betas, Pickwicksociety, JenKB, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180, catch my errors and make me better than I am. **

* * *

_**Chapter 22 – Between the Shadow and the Soul**_

"I hope everyone read the Pablo Neruda poem I assigned yesterday because now we're going to have some fun dissecting it."

Standing beside the overhead projector displaying the poem onto the pull-down screen, I smiled and looked around the classroom, surveying my students' responses. I couldn't help but chuckle when met with groans from a couple of boys and the wide-eyed, eager faces of many of the girls.

"We're going to look at each stanza separately and try to identify poetic devices that Neruda used."

The whispers from two boys in the back row caught my attention. I'd put a stop to that easily enough. "Robert, could you read the first stanza, please?"

His head jerked up, and his mouth fell open. "Um, okay," he mumbled.

"'_I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,_

_or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off._

_I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,_

_in secret, between the shadow and the soul.'"_

"Thank you, Robert. Now who can identify a poetic device used in this stanza?" I Iooked around the room for a volunteer. Unless a student consistently failed to participate, I tried not to single students out, putting them on the spot for an answer they might not know. I so hated that when I was a kid.

Becky, one of my more academically-inclined students, raised her hand. She then correctly explained that similes were used in two instances.

I glanced at the shy brown-haired girl in the third row with her head down. "Next stanza, please, Emily."

She read the next lines of the poem so quietly, I barely heard her:

"'_I love you as the plant that never blooms_

_but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;_

_thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,_

_risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.'"_

The moment the last word was read, I saw from my peripheral vision an arm waving wildly. "Kimberly, go ahead."

"That's a metaphor–in the third line," she explained, excitement in her voice.

"Okay, why do you say that?"

"Uh, well, he's comparing her love to a fragrance without using the word like or as."

"Very good! If he'd used either like or as to make the comparison, then we would call it what?"

"A simile." She smiled, clearly proud of herself.

"That's correct." My eyes scanned the room again, looking for my next reading victim. "Justin, would you finish up the poem for us, please?"

Justin brushed his shaggy brown hair from his eyes and cleared his throat. He began reading, his voice dramatic and deep:

"'_I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where._

_I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;_

_So I love you because I know no other way_

_than this: where I do not exist, nor you,_

_So intimate that your hand on my chest is my hand,_

_So intimate that your eyes close as I fall asleep.'"_

How could it be that a poem that I'd read countless times could leave me speechless and entirely undone–as though Neruda's words were brand-new to me? I hadn't read through the poem when preparing for today's lesson because I was already familiar with it. That meant that the last time I'd read Neruda's "Sonnett XVII" was sometime pre-Edward.

Though I'd always appreciated the beauty of the words, I'd never truly felt them in my being; I had never personally related to them.

_"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where."_ I stared at the words on the screen, but all I saw was Edward with his jade eyes and long lashes.

_"So I love you because I know no other way."_ The line echoed in my thoughts, and all I could see or feel or sense was . . . Edward.

"Miss Swan?" A distant, feminine voice called out.

I whipped my head around, turning away from the projector to face the class. "Oh, I'm sorry. Uh, yes, so, uh, thank you for reading, Justin. Now who would like to take a stab at the next stanza?"

* * *

Sitting in Riley's waiting room later that afternoon, I chuckled to myself, remembering how I'd zoned out in the middle of my lesson. As the teacher, I was supposed to chide students for day dreaming, yet there I'd stood at the front of the class, lost in Edward la la land. It was the strangest thing how time had seemed to stop for me as the last few lines of the poem were read aloud. Its meaning had erupted like a geyser, washing over me and cleansing me of emotional toxins.

I stared at the beige wall of the waiting room, one leg crossed over the other, my foot bobbing anxiously as I analyzed my discombobulated thoughts. Neruda's expression of love in the sonnet was something I had never related to before Edward. This left me wondering if I'd ever really loved Jacob. I must have loved him because I'd been utterly devastated when he'd left me.

Perhaps there were different types of love. I considered this as I mumbled the lines that continued to echo within me, "'So I love you because I know no other way.'"

Loving Edward was as natural and effortless as breathing. "'I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where,'" I whispered to Edward in my imagination. I totally got what Neruda was saying–falling in love with Edward was an automatic, even an involuntary, response.

And then suddenly it clicked–an epiphany broke through my cluttered musings. I did love Jacob, but loving him was more of . . . a choice? Yes, I chose to love Jacob because he was everything a girl could want in a life partner. We had similar interests and values, and he was fun to be around. He was ambitious, hard-working, and romantic. On paper, he was perfect husband material. It had just made sense to love him and to marry him. So I chose to care for him, to love him, and to mesh my life with his.

But this _thing_ with Edward–this enigmatic, ethereal, magnetic thing that almost seemed to be its own entity–had chosen _me_. It had chosen me and Edward _together_, bonding us instantaneously. I had no choice but to submit to its will. I smiled, having a sense that fear's paralyzing fingers were beginning to loosen their fierce grip on me. Its sinister hold on me was weakened by my submission to love's will.

"Bella? Come on in." Riley's voice startled me from my mental meanderings. I followed him to his office, still smiling from the inside out.

"You look happy," Riley said, his expression curious.

"I think I am." I grinned sheepishly, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear as I plopped down on the sofa. "Today was my last day of student teaching. I'm pretty psyched about graduating in a couple of weeks. And I think I'm getting close to being able to make that phone call . . . to Edward." I glanced up, meeting Riley's eyes.

"Getting close? Hmm, well, let's see if I can nudge you over the ledge, so to speak." He twisted around in his seat, setting his notebook on the desk behind him. Turning back toward me, he leaned over, resting his elbows on his knees. "Bella, _you_ killed Edward."

"What the freak?" I glared at him, my expression contorting in astonishment. I mean, yeah, I knew I'd hurt Edward when I'd left him sitting on that bed in his hotel room, but Riley didn't have to be so crass about it.

"You heard me." His stare was penetrating, and his tone was serious as fuck. He was weirding me out a bit. "You killed him before any bullets in the war zone could."

I gasped, my mouth falling open in shock at the bluntness of his words.

"Bella, when you ended things with him, you simply lost him sooner rather than later. That put you in control, but the result was the same as what you feared, the same as what you were trying to prevent. The result is that he's dead–meaning he's out of your life completely, so he might as well be dead. By ending things, you were trying to prevent the grief you would experience if he didn't come back from Iraq. But, Bella, you've been grieving since the day you left him. So you prevented nothing."

"Holy mother of fuck," I muttered under my breath. I leaned over and buried my face in my hands, mindlessly rubbing circles on my temples. "Oh, what have I done?" I cautiously peered through my fingers at Riley. "I'm the biggest idiot that ever lived."

"Oh, no, you don't. No regret or self-loathing allowed. Bella, would you have sought out therapy had you not ended your relationship with Edward?"

I sat back against the sofa, crossing my arms. "No, probably not. I mean, I thought I was just fine."

"And has therapy been helpful to you in your estimation?"

"Yes, definitely."

"I think so, too," he agreed, a hint of pride in his tone. "I believe you are now much more capable of being in a healthy relationship than you were before you began therapy. So you can't regret anything because your actions brought you to this point."

I paused a moment, mulling over his viewpoint. "I get what you're saying, and I sort of agree, but . . . but at what cost to Edward? I mean, he's just got to be so angry and hurt. I don't know how he could ever forgive me for the way I left him, the way I abandoned him."

I blew out a gust of breath, anxiously rummaging my hands through my hair. As I continued, my voice level dropped to nearly a whisper, muted by shame. "I said some pretty harsh things about soldiers showing up on his parents' doorstep to deliver the bad news. Oh, god," I groaned, clenching my eyes shut as visions of our last moments together flickered through my mind. "He wouldn't hug me goodbye. He wouldn't even look at me when I left." I opened my eyes and met Riley's stare.

He nodded. "I'm sure he was hurt and possibly angry, but you'll never know if he can forgive you unless you ask him. And Bella? Perhaps he's also been on a journey of self-discovery during your separation."

* * *

Of all goddamn days, why did Phil's birthday celebration have to be tonight? I had wanted to call Edward the second I left Riley's office, but I'd promised my mom that I would meet them at Pizzaria Bianco for dinner. The gourmet pizzeria was nationally known, and there was always a long wait for dinner, especially since the restaurant was featured on Oprah when her bestie, Gail, visited the restaurant. Why they didn't take reservations, I had no idea, but it pissed me the hell off that they didn't. I had better things to do than wait for two hours just to get seated, and then who knew how much more time to get served. The pizza had damn well better be effing orgasmic, but I doubted it could be as delicious as the capricciosa pizza that Edward and I shared in his hotel room in Florence.

I circled the parking lot looking for an empty spot, growing more irritated with each passing second. I eventually spied a car pulling out, and I swooped in, taking the parking spot. As I approached the restaurant, I heard my name being called. I looked toward the sound to see my mom waving. She and Phil were sitting outside on the restaurant's patio.

"Hey, Mom." I greeted her with a hug when she stood up from the table. I turned to Phil. "Happy Birthday, Phil!" I said with a smile, giving him a quick embrace.

"Thanks for joining us, Bella. I appreciate it," Phil replied.

"Sure thing. So how old are you now, like sixteen?" I deadpanned before allowing a wicked grin to appear. I loved to tease them about Phil being several years younger than my mom.

"Ha! I wish!" Phil chuckled good-naturedly.

Mom laughed and wrapped her arm around Phil, cuddling into his side. "Oh, Bella, you're just jealous that you don't have a hot young man like mine."

_No, Mom_, I thought, _I'm just pissed at myself that I threw away the hot young man I had_. I hoped to remedy that tonight, but I said nothing. I just smiled and shrugged my shoulders because I didn't want to tell them about Edward just yet. First, I needed to find out if he even still wanted me.

"They said it would be about an hour wait," my mom explained, sipping from a wine glass. "Why don't you order a drink."

"I'd better stick to the non-alcoholic variety." Though I really wanted a good, stiff drink, I knew that wouldn't be wise. Not only did I have to drive myself home, but I wanted to have a clear head when I talked to Edward.

Two freaking hours later, we were finally sitting at a table inside the restaurant enjoying some pretty spectacular pizza. I'd ordered the Wiseguy pizza–wood-roasted onion, smoked mozzarella, and fennel sausage. Yummy! Okay, I really hated to admit it, but maybe it was worth a two hour wait.

"Graduation is coming up soon, right?" Phil asked, trying to refocus the conversation on someone other than my mother who had been talking incessantly. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

"Uh, yeah, it is. May 18th–that's a Friday."

"That's fantastic. Congratulations, Bella." Phil smiled.

"Graduations always drag on forever," my mom said, her tone whiny and grating. "I just hope it isn't too long. I don't think my back can take sitting for hours."

Oh, god, it was always something with her. I took a cleansing breath, attempting to release the anxiety in my chest. I could hear the echoes of Riley's words during an extensive therapy session about my mom's mental illness.

"No matter how many pills she takes or how much therapy she receives, she will never be the mother you wanted and needed. You'll be much happier once you accept that," Riley had explained to me. _She can't help it_. I silently willed myself to believe and accept this as fact.

I patted her hand. "Mom, I'm sure if your back acts up, you could get up and walk around in the back of the auditorium or in the lobby." This was my conscious attempt to not take her complaining personally anymore. Instead, I would try to be patient with her, recognizing it was the illness speaking most of the time.

"Of course, honey." She smiled, placing her hand on top of mine.

* * *

By the time I finally arrived home around nine, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. I'd left the house at seven in the morning, so I'd been gone for fourteen hours–all of which were chock full of emotions. I'd had to say goodbye to another group of students and to Mr. Bailey. I'd had a breakthrough of sorts via Neruda's poem, now better understanding my love for Jacob versus my love for Edward. And then I'd had a somewhat painful wake-up call when Riley had told me I had, in effect, killed Edward. It was a long-as-fuck day!

It was most certainly a bubble bath night, I decided, as I passed through the dark living room, heading straight for the sanctuary of my bedroom. Dropping my backpack next to my desk, I pulled my cell phone from my purse and texted Alice to find out when she thought she might be home. She was on campus at a meeting for the Education Department's Student Council committee.

I thought about asking her to text me Emmett's phone number so that I could call him to get Edward's contact information. But as excited as I was about calling Edward, I was as equally nervous and unsure. I needed a good BFF pep talk first, to pump me up and give me courage before making the most important phone call of my existence.

In addition to encouragement, I really needed Alice's advice about what in the hell I should say to him because everything I came up with sounded ridiculous. _Hi, Edward. Yeah, it's Bella–you know, the bitch who kicked you to the curb, abruptly ending the pretty awesome thing we had going. Yeah, the one who told you that you were going to die in Iraq. So, I changed my mind–I want you back. Can we just forget any of that happened? _My god, even if he could forgive me, how would he ever trust me again?

Alice texted back quickly, saying that she'd be home in an hour or so and asking if anything was wrong. She knew something was up because I didn't normally inquire about her comings and goings. I texted back that everything was fine but that I needed her advice about something. An hour was perfect–I'd have enough time to soak in a hot bath before she got home.

I tossed my phone on the bed, quickly stripping out of my slacks and blouse. Covered by my robe, I scampered off to the bathroom and started running the hot water. I actually don't do bubble baths–the soap always irritates my hooha. My soaking agent of choice is baby oil because it's cheap, it hydrates my skin, and it gets along quite nicely with my girly bits. I squeezed a steady stream of it into the water, twisted my hair up so it wouldn't get wet, and climbed into the water. I gasped at the shock of steaming hot water surrounding my skin. Leaning back, I submerged myself up to my neck and let out a sigh as my muscles seemingly melted into relaxation.

I closed my eyes and began mentally preparing myself for the imminent conversation with Edward. I visualized myself dialing his number and hearing him say hello. I spoke aloud, practicing how I would pour out my heart to him, holding nothing back. "Edward, I fucked up. I was scared, and I panicked. But I'm miserable without you. I know you're probably angry, and I don't blame you, but . . . I am so very sorry. Do you think you could ever forgive me?"

I'd have to run it by Alice first, but it sounded pretty good to me. I mean, it was honest and sincere–that had to be the best way to go. I hoped Alice wasn't any later than an hour so that we'd have time to talk, and I'd still have time to call Edward before it got too late. I wasn't sure how late was _too_ late, but I didn't want to waste any more time being apart. I didn't care if it was past an acceptable hour to call; I would talk to Edward tonight even if I had to wake him up. I felt a sense of urgency because if I was lucky enough for him to take me back, I wanted to make the most of the time we had together before he had to report for duty. At the end of March–when I last saw him–he'd said he had to report for duty in four months. That meant we had until approximately the end of July to be together–three months–_if_ he would even take me back, and _if_ he was still willing to move to Phoenix to be with me.

Looking down at my bright pink skin and wrinkly fingers and toes, I decided it was time to get out of the bathtub. I started the water draining and stood up slowly, my head spinning a bit from my body overheating. After drying off, I splashed cold water on my face to help bring my temperature down. I threw on my robe and returned to my bedroom.

Just as I finished putting on a camisole and lounge shorts, I heard a noise coming from the living room and figured Alice must have gotten home. I knew she would be almost as happy as me that I'd finally decided to try to fix things with Edward. I was giddy with excitement, knowing that very soon I would hear Edward's satiny warm voice again.

I bounded out of my room to greet Alice, get some quick advice from her, and demand Edward's phone number. As I walked into the living room, I was surprised to find it still dark. Huh, that's odd. Why didn't she turn on the light when she came in? I crossed the room to flip it on, thinking that maybe she'd had her hands full when she arrived. She probably went straight to her bedroom. I flipped the light switch, turning around to head to her bedroom.

But I was stopped in my tracks, utterly paralyzed with terror–my heart, my thought processes, my muscles–everything was immobilized except for my vocal chords. At the sight of a strange man standing in my living room in front of an open window, I screamed. He was facing the window with his back toward me, but as I let out that spine-tingling scream, he whipped around to face me, and something shiny in his hand blurred across my vision. I wasn't sure what was happening, but suddenly I couldn't stand up anymore. I fell backward, landing hard on the wood floor. It felt as if someone had hit me in the chest with a sledgehammer. I could hear myself screaming and crying, but I wasn't consciously doing it–the cries were automatic and uncontrollable.

Lying on the floor, I grabbed at my chest where the pain had turned into fire. It felt like somebody had gouged my chest with a hot branding iron, burning me from the inside out. "Alice . . . he…lp me." I gasped, finding it difficult to get enough air.

"Bella! Oh, fuck, I'm so sorry."

Was I dreaming? The voice was familiar, but it couldn't be him.

"You motherfuckers! I will fucking kill you for this," the male voice bellowed.

I opened my scrunched eyes, trying to focus through the tears that blurred my vision. "Seth?" I whimpered. My brother hovered over me, his skeletal, sallow face just inches from mine.

"Bella, this wasn't supposed to happen. You are supposed to be in England." His eyes were wet, his face contorting. "I owe those guys money, so I thought . . . oh, fuck, I'm so sorry." Seth's hand gripped mine, rubbing it and then kissing my fingers. "It's gonna be okay. I called 911. They'll be here soon."

I could barely concentrate on what he was saying because the exquisite pain was all-encompassing. A blood-curdling scream pulled my focus away from the fire burning in my chest.

"Oh, my fucking god! What the fuck happened?" My eyes were closed again, but I knew that voice. Complete with colorful language, the voice floated down upon me like a warm security blanket. My Alice was here.

"She was shot," Seth said, his voice cracking. "I didn't fucking do it, Alice! It was a guy I was with. He's gone now."

I'd been shot? I hadn't even heard a gunshot. It happened so fast, and I was so overcome with excruciating pain that I hadn't even thought about what had caused it. People die from gunshot wounds, especially in the chest. And it hurt so badly–I _felt_ like I was going to die. I couldn't die yet–I had to talk to Edward. I had to tell him I love him. I couldn't leave with him thinking that I didn't want him.

"You fuckwad, what the fuck have you been doing?" Alice's voice rang out. "You didn't even apply pressure? Give me your fucking t-shirt!"

I saw Edward's beautiful face in my mind, and I tried to remember the sound of his voice. I felt a steady hand pressing against the burn in my chest. "Please tell me you called 911?" Alice's tone was low and venomous.

Her tiny hand found mine, squeezing it gently. "Bella? Bella, can you hear me?" It took all my strength because I felt so sleepy, but I opened my eyes. "Oh, thank god! Bella, sweetie, I'm here. You're going to be okay. Don't be afraid."

The physical pain was now dwarfed by the emotional anguish I felt at the thought of never seeing Edward again. I opened my mouth, but it was so dry. I swallowed and tried to talk, but all I heard was a strange croaky sound.

"What is it, honey?" Alice put her ear next to my mouth.

I swallowed again, taking as big of a breath as my lungs would allow. "Ed . . . wa…wa."

Alice's eyes met mine. "Edward? Do you want me to call Edward?"

I nodded, closing my eyes again, no longer able to fend off the exhaustion overtaking me.

"I promise, honey. I'll call him as soon as the paramedics get here." Alice's voice swirled above me, faint and whispery, as blackness descended.

* * *

**A/N: Um, is everybody okay? Take a deep breath…exhale. Much to my surprise, I actually cried a bit while writing this chapter. I didn't even cry when writing the chapter when Bella left Edward, but for some reason this one made me weepy. **


	23. I Have Loved You All Along

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: Pickwicksociety, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180 were the beta masterminds behind this chapter. **

**Though I don't normally attach songs to chapters, I thought I'd let you know that "Far Away" by Nickelback was playing while I wrote. I felt it complemented this chapter quite nicely. Credit to the lyrics for the title of this chapter.**

**And now I give you what you've all been waiting for. We are going to get inside Edward's head! Fucking finally! **

* * *

"_I wanted  
I wanted you to stay  
'Cause I needed  
I need to hear you say  
That I love you.  
I have loved you all along  
And I forgive you  
For being away for far too long.  
So keep breathing  
'Cause I'm not leaving you anymore.  
Believe it,  
Hold on to me and, never let me go.  
Keep breathing  
'Cause I'm not leaving you anymore.  
Believe it,  
Hold on to me and, never let me go  
Keep breathing."_

-Lyrics from "Far Away" by Nickelback

_**Chapter 23 – I Have Loved You All Along**_

_**Edward's Point of View**_

The strumming of the guitar strings kept my mind as well as my fingers occupied, while the melody itself salved my loneliness, creating a false sense of connectedness with Bella. Though I'd finished composing Bella's song some time ago, I'd continued to strum its melody on a daily basis because it was all I really had left of her. Well, that's not completely true. I had photos of us traveling and the Austen book that she'd given me—or, more correctly, that she'd given to Emmett to give to me.

Yet, it was the intangible things that soothed me the most—my memories and Bella's song. The two went hand in hand because the melody I'd written was the wordless telling of our story. Each scene of our love affair dictated the tempo, the beginning mostly upbeat and joyful as were most of our moments together.

I closed my eyes as I played, conjuring up Bella in my mind, gazing at the stained glass windows in Notre Dame, then sitting on the bench in Boboli Gardens, her lips pressed to mine. Midway through, the tempo slowed. It became a deep, soulful outpouring, signifying the first time we'd made love, slowly and intently. I opened my eyes to insure I didn't miss the chords as my fingers picked up speed, plucking out a cheerful rhythm again before finally transforming into a heavy, melancholy cadence, representing the day Bella left—one of the blackest days of my life.

I sighed as I got up from the sofa and placed my guitar carefully in its stand. Picking up my phone and pack of smokes from the end table, I crossed the room and slid onto the piano bench. Setting my phone on the piano top, I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, quickly taking a deep pull. Watching the smoke swirl around me, I chuckled bitterly. I couldn't believe I'd started smoking again after quitting six years ago. What a fucking waste!

After Bella left me in my hotel room in London five weeks ago, I'd remained sitting on the edge of the bed, nearly catatonic. I think I was in shock—one second I was high on Bella, planning a move to Phoenix to be with her, and in the next moment, she was gone, ceasing to exist in my world, except in my mind. I have no idea how much time had passed before I heard pounding on the hotel door. I'd answered it only in the hope that it was Bella, maybe having changed her mind. But it wasn't her—it was Emmett.

After letting him in, I'd walked back toward the bed when my eye caught sight of the porcelain swan I'd given Bella. I panicked, scooping up the figurine and turning to Emmett. I quickly explained to him the horrendous clusterfuck that had just gone down. I wasn't sure why, but I needed Bella to keep the swan. I needed her to have something, some evidence of our time together.

Emmett and I had argued, him insisting that I should go after her. He didn't understand why I wasn't fighting for her. It was simple—because it had never made sense for Bella to want to be with me. Why would she willingly get involved with someone she'd have to say goodbye to in a few months, who would be stepping into a war zone, and who was fucked in the head with unrelenting nightmares. Simply put, I hadn't gone after her because she was better off without me. After losing my shit and slamming Emmett against the wall, insisting that he shut the fuck up and take Bella the goddamn swan, he'd agreed, leaving quietly.

I flicked the burning embers of my cigarette into the ashtray that had taken up permanent residence on the top of the shiny, black grand piano in my living room. My gaze darted to my phone next to it, and I stared hypnotically at it as I blew out a puff of smoke. I hunched over, resting my elbows on the piano as I tugged at my hair.

That goddamn phone taunted me nearly every day. I couldn't even begin to count how many times I'd come so close to calling Bella. Though I didn't actually have her number, Emmett had given me Alice's cell, so I could've reached her easily enough. I wanted to plead my case one more time, try to convince her to take the risk with me. She was the only one with the ability to take away the constant suffocating ache in my chest. But that would have been fucking selfish of me, and I'd known that from the beginning. That was the one and only reason that I'd resisted her for as long as I had. That's why I'd said goodbye after our first kiss in Munich, even though I was inexplicably drawn to her. That's why after fooling around on the sofa in Florence, I'd told her I couldn't do a relationship, which resulted in her tears as we'd said goodbye once again.

I snuffed out my cigarette and rested my fingers on the piano keys. Having mastered Bella's song on the guitar, I'd recently begun trying to play it on the piano. My hands moved over the smooth ivory, beginning with the refrain that conveyed the elation I'd felt when I'd tracked Bella down at the Falmer train station, later confessing my feelings—and she'd still wanted me. She wanted me even though she knew I'd be returning to Iraq soon, or so I'd fucking thought. Goddamn, I should be awarded the World's Worst Communicator trophy for that fuckup.

Bella had said at one point that Emmett had told her everything and that she didn't care. So when she'd welcomed me with open arms on that damn pea-green sofa in that little college common room, I'd assumed that she did, in fact, know _everything_. She'd resisted talking about the details of our future until the end of the trip, and I hadn't insisted because, honestly, I didn't want to talk about it much either. I didn't want to think about going to Iraq and leaving Bella behind until I absolutely had to.

My cell phone lit up, its ring abruptly jolting me out of my daydreaming trance. I continued playing the piano as I glanced at the caller ID.

"Motherfucker," I hissed. For a second, I considered not answering it, but I knew better—Emmett would just keep calling until I did. And if I didn't answer, eventually he'd show up at my door. Been there, done that a few weeks ago.

I stopped playing and glanced at my watch—10:45 on a Friday night. I knew exactly why he was calling. For some reason, he thought the answer to my problems was to hang out in a bar with him, getting fucked up and fighting off skanks left and right. He was probably at a bar right now and was calling to harass me into meeting him.

I groaned as I grabbed my phone. "The answer is still fucking no, Emmett!" I answered, my tone harsher than I'd intended.

"Edward, I just got a call from Alice."

Well, fuck—that certainly wasn't what I'd expected him to say. And he sounded strange; his voice was strained. Maybe Alice had changed her mind about coming to visit him after her and Bella's graduation. He'd told me that Alice had broken up with her boyfriend. I knew they'd been talking on the phone quite a bit, but he hadn't really told me much about their relationship. Probably because he knew the last thing I'd want to listen to in my misery was how happy he was to have Alice in his life—even if it was long-distance.

"And?" I said impatiently.

He didn't answer right away, and I heard him muttering what sounded like profanities under his breath. "Edward, man . . . I don't know how to tell you this, so I'm just going to say it. There was a break-in at Alice and Bella's house."

"What?" I yelled, bolting off the piano bench. Panic swept over me, a familiar tightening in my chest almost immediate. "Everything's okay though, right? They're okay?"

"Goddamn fucking shit," he muttered angrily. "Edward, Bella was shot during the burglary. She's on the way to the hospital now. Alice called me as soon as the paramedics left with Bella in the ambulance."

"No! Fuck, no!" I was frozen with shock, pain pooling in the pit of my stomach instantaneously.

"I'm so sorry, man," Emmett cried, jolting me into action.

I ran to my bedroom, still holding the phone to my ear and balancing precariously on one foot as I shoved the other into my laced-up boot. "I have to get to her," I stammered, breathing heavily as I frantically scanned the floor for my other boot. "Even if she doesn't want me, I have to go."

"I'll pick you up in thirty minutes. I'm coming, too," Emmett said rapidly, hanging up without waiting for my answer.

* * *

Midway through the two and a half hour flight to Phoenix, I was so anxious and distraught that I couldn't stand being in my own skin. I would have crawled out of it if I could have—anything to escape the torture of being trapped in a tiny, suffocating airplane, far away from Bella. What made the waiting worse was that I had no information about how badly Bella was injured.

Emmett had called Alice shortly before we boarded the 1:35am flight, but she still didn't know if Bella would be okay. She told Em that Bella had been in surgery for about two hours. That couldn't be good—two fucking hours! My hands tightened around the armrests, and I sucked in a deep breath before exhaling it all. But it didn't fucking help. My chest still hurt, and I mean that quite literally. Everything inside—from my lungs to my blood vessels—was tight and aching, creating a painful pressure on my breaking heart.

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I knew I was too wired to sleep, not that I would've allowed myself to doze off even if I could. The risk was too great that I'd have a nightmare and freak the fuck out in front of all these sleeping passengers. I just needed to rest my eyes and try to relax.

A few minutes passed before I gasped, my eyes quickly opening to escape the haunting images behind my eyelids. After reliving moments of Bella smiling and laughing with me, my senses were unexpectedly assaulted with images of her, unconscious and bloody. Her broken body then morphed into James, also shot and bloody—and dead.

I leaned over, my elbows resting on my knees. I moved my hands roughly over my whiskered face before threading them tightly in the tangled mess on my head, where they remained. I needed a goddamn cigarette like right the fuck now.

I directed my thoughts back to what Emmett had told me as soon as he'd picked me up at my condo on the way to the airport. He'd said that I was wrong to think Bella wouldn't want me there. I'd looked at him, perplexed. He had then quickly elaborated, telling me that, according to Alice, my name was the last thing Bella had said before she'd lost consciousness.

My first instinct was to interpret it as evidence that she still wanted me, that her feelings for me hadn't changed. But just as quickly, doubt crept in. Who knew what she was thinking when she'd uttered my name—maybe she felt remorse about how she'd ended our relationship. Maybe she wanted nothing more than to apologize for the way things had ended so abruptly. Perhaps, but until I knew otherwise, I was going to choose to believe that it was more than guilt that pushed my names from her lips. I had to believe it meant something because that was the only comfort I had.

* * *

I glanced at my watch for the tenth time in as many minutes. It was close to five in the morning in Phoenix as Emmett drove the rental car toward the hospital.

"We're almost there, bro," Emmett said quietly.

I nodded, pulling out my cigarette pack from my jeans' pocket. After lighting up, I rolled down the window, trying to direct the smoke outside.

"Dude, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to smoke in a rental car."

I glared at Emmett. "Like I give a flying fuck!" But then I chuckled humorlessly, shaking my head. "I'll buy the fucking car if I have to."

Emmett ignored me as he dialed his cell. "I told Alice I'd call when we're almost there," he mumbled, holding the phone to his ear.

"Yeah, Alice, it's me. We'll be there in less than five minutes. Any word?" I looked at Emmett, dying to hear what Alice was saying. "Uh-huh. Yeah, okay . . . bye."

"What? Tell me," I ordered impatiently.

"Bella made it through surgery, but she's in critical condition."

"But what the fuck does that mean?" I bellowed angrily. "I need someone to tell me that she's going to be okay."

"I know, man. I'm sorry. We'll be there soon, and I'm sure we can get more information from her parents."

A few minutes later, I snuffed out my cigarette on the pavement as I dashed out of the car, speed walking toward the entrance of the hospital. I heard the slapping of Emmett's feet on the concrete as he jogged to catch up with me. As soon as I walked through the main doors, I saw Alice pacing the lobby. Her back was facing me, but her petite frame and short, dark hair were unmistakable. She turned and met my eyes, immediately holding her arms out toward me. I bounded over to her and hunched down, hugging her tightly. She was the closest thing I could get to Bella right now.

When I pulled away, Emmett silently embraced her, lifting her feet off the floor. "I'm so glad you came," she said, her cheek against his.

When Em let her go and stepped back, I felt a lump forming in my throat as I took in her appearance. She didn't have any makeup on like she usually did, other than scattered remnants of smudged mascara that framed her swollen, red eyes. Her face was red and blotchy. My eyes wandered to the oversized tent of a t-shirt she wore; it had the hospital logo on it.

She sniffled, drawing my attention back to her face. "So, she's in the ICU," she mumbled, her eyes darting between us and the floor. "I'll take you up to that waiting room. Right now her mom and step-dad are in with her. Her dad, Charlie, is flying in from Washington. He'll probably be here in a couple of hours."

I really didn't care who the hell was here for Bella. I only needed to know two things—how the hell this happened and whether she would fully recover.

"What the fuck happened, Alice?" The words were strong, so I was surprised to hear that my voice was a hoarse whisper.

"Um, well, did Bella tell you about her brother?"

"Yeah, I know all about him."

Emmett interjected, "Sorry, I'm clueless here."

Alice looked at Emmett. "Seth is her younger brother. He's a meth addict. He's been missing for a few weeks, so Bella assumed he was probably using again."

She turned her gaze back to me. "Seth and his drug buddies broke into the house. Bella was home alone. Apparently, Seth thought we were still in Europe. Why? I have no fucking idea. Obviously, meth brains don't remember dates very well." She sighed, crossing her arms tightly across her chest. "Anyway, he needed stuff to pawn for drugs or he owed people money or something. One of the fuck knobs that was with Seth panicked when he saw Bella unexpectedly, and . . . well, he fucking shot her. That's what happened."

"Goddamnit . . . _fuck_." I threw my hands in the air, and they landed in my hair, which I wanted to pull the fuck out of my head. "She must have been so fucking scared."

I turned away from them—my hands still clenched on my head—and began pacing. I was going out of my mind thinking how horrible it must have been for her and wondering if she'd be okay. I paced in circles a few steps away from them, but I could still hear their conversation.

"When did you get there, Alice?" Emmett asked.

"Shortly after it happened, after the scumbag gunman left but before the police arrived. Seth was still there. He'd already called 911 and stayed with her."

"Well, I should fucking hope so," Emmett said sarcastically. "And where is he now?"

"He was arrested," she said so quietly I barely heard her.

I turned back around to see Emmett swallow Alice up in another hug. He rubbed her back and stroked her head with his massive hands. When Alice noticed me staring at them, she stepped back, turning her attention to me.

"Edward, did Emmett tell you? She asked for you. I mean . . . well, she was having a hard time talking, but she said your name. I asked her if she wanted me to call you, and she nodded."

"Take me up," I mumbled, my teeth clenched in an attempt to stave off the tears that were near the surface. "I need to see her _now_, Alice."

Silently, she turned around, and we followed her to the elevators. Emmett kept his arms around her during the eerily quiet ride up to the ICU ward. Alice left us in the waiting room, saying that she was going to tell Bella's mom that we'd arrived. Apparently, I couldn't see her until they came out since only two visitors were allowed at a time.

About five agonizing minutes later, Alice appeared with who I assumed to be Bella's mom and step-dad. Emmett and I stood up as they approached us.

"This is Edward," Alice said, motioning to me. "And this is Emmett." She continued with the introductions, clearly uncomfortable considering the reason for our meeting was a grave one. "Guys . . . um, this is Renee, Bella's mom, and Phil, her husband."

I shook Phil's hand, nodding silently. When I extended my hand to Renee, she chuckled. "Oh, don't be silly," she said, grabbing me and hugging me tightly. "She must mean a lot to you for you both to come all this way." She then pulled Emmett into a hug, muttering about how thankful she was that Bella had such good friends.

I had a one track mind, and I needed information even more than I needed a goddamn cigarette. "What did the surgeon say after Bella came out of surgery?"

My gaze flickered from Renee to Phil and back again. I didn't care _who_ answered—I just needed some fucking answers.

Phil cleared his throat. "The surgeon said they stopped the bleeding, and she's stable right now. But . . . well, it was a serious injury, and with things like this, he said the first twenty-four hours are crucial."

I sighed and looked down at my feet, utterly gutted by his answer. Couldn't somebody just fucking tell me that she would be okay?

Renee touched my arm, and I looked down at her as she smiled sadly at me. As I met her gaze, I noted that Bella didn't look like her mother at all. Renee appeared to be in her forties with light brown hair and blue eyes.

"Edward," she said, "the doctor is supposed to be back around seven this morning to give us an update. Maybe he'll have more positive news then."

I nodded. "Can I see her . . . please?"

"Oh, yes, of course! You've come all this way. Both of you go on in," Renee urged.

* * *

As I pushed the door to Bella's room open, I cringed at the sound of the machines that I knew were keeping Bella alive. There was the unmistakable sound of a ventilator, a steady, rhythmic white noise filling the room as it forced air in and out of her lungs.

I stepped cautiously toward the bed, mentally willing myself to look at her face. I wanted to see her so badly, but _fuck_—I did not want to see her like _this_. I stopped at the foot of the bed, resting my hands on the railing as my eyes traveled up her body toward her face. The sight of my beautiful Bella nearly brought me to my knees. My heart rate sped up, and my grip tightened around the bed rail.

A breathing tube jutted out of her mouth, taped in place. And she was so fucking pale. Yeah, she had a naturally fair complexion, but _now_ . . . she was . . . _deathly_ pale. It reminded me of how lifeless and bloodless James had looked—just before he'd died.

Suddenly, the world seemed darker than it ever had before with the realization that this glorious creature might never open her eyes again. I closed mine tightly, trying to control the all-too-familiar panic bubbling inside. _I can't fucking lose you, too . . . I can't . . . please, Bella._

Though I'd already lost her, living life without her for over a month, just knowing she was breathing the same air as me—somewhere on this earth—had made the separation bearable. But to live in a world where Bella did not exist—it was too fucking much to fathom. The possibility was so dismal it sucked the air out of my lungs, leaving me breathless and panting.

Emmett's hands squeezed my shoulders. "Edward, do _not_ think the worst," he whispered over my shoulder. "You have to be strong for her. Now, take a deep breath, and then let it out very slowly."

It wasn't until he spoke that I realized my breathing had become rapid and irregular. I did as Emmett said, consciously trying to regulate my breathing by taking methodical, slow breaths. Then I opened my eyes with the intent of focusing on Bella, rather than on the tubes and machines.

Slowly, I walked to the side of the bed, resting my arms on the railing and bending over so my face was just inches from hers. Bella's chocolate hair was swirled around her porcelain face—the contrast was stunning. Not even a grave injury could rob her of her magnificence; Bella's elegant beauty still left me awestruck.

I leaned down and kissed her cheek. My lips brushed across her skin, settling gently on her ear. "I'm here, Bella," I whispered. "It's Edward. I'm here, and I need you to wake up."

"Hey, bro, I'm gonna give you a minute. I'll just be right outside," Emmett said quietly.

I didn't acknowledge him. I kept my face buried in Bella's hair, my lips grazing her ear. When the door closed, I continued talking to her. I'd heard of some people being able to hear even when they were unconscious. I didn't know if she could hear me, but even if she couldn't, it soothed me to be able to talk to her again.

"Bella Baby, I need you to open your eyes. I'll just be your friend if that's all you can do, but you have to come back to me." I pressed my lips to her colorless cheek. "I've missed you so much, Bella . . . _so_ much. Please tell me I can be your friend. I need to have some place in your life."

I stood up straight and pulled up a chair that was near the bed. After sitting down, I cradled her tiny hand in both of mine, stroking her delicate skin with my thumbs while my gaze remained locked on her face. Carefully lifting her hand to my cheek, I kissed it and rubbed her fingers along my jaw.

It reminded me of the many times she would reach out and stroke my face. She always said that I had a jaw line that could cut glass. When I'd given her a puzzled look, she'd explained that it was actually a compliment. I smiled at the memory, and as I nuzzled Bella's hand, I felt something wet on my fingers. I lifted my free hand to my face, quickly realizing that my cheeks were wet with tears that I hadn't even realized I'd shed. Damn, I couldn't even recall the last time I'd cried.

"I'm . . . I'm in love with her," I whispered aloud, though I was speaking only to myself. The realization hit me all at once—only my loving her could render this world unlivable for me if her heart failed to beat. Only something as limitless and potent as love could penetrate my long-since petrified emotions, leaving me a weeping mess at her bedside. It was almost as if I needed to vocalize this epiphany in order to comprehend it, to make my brain accept what my heart already knew. "I love her," I muttered, utterly shell-shocked.

This understanding didn't come with a chorus of angels and unparalleled joy. I was in love with a woman who had cut me out of her life, who couldn't accept the realities that came along with being with me. On top of that dismal fact, the woman I loved was barely clinging to life. Loving her was a somber truth.

I had no sense of time as I held Bella's hand, kissing her fingers, stroking her arm, and talking to her. All I could see or hear or think was—Bella. I didn't tell her I loved her because I wanted her to hear those words from my lips for the first time while looking into my eyes. Not that I would necessarily tell her—that would depend on whether or not anything had changed. She might have only wanted me here as a friend.

Instead of confessing my love, I told her about the song that I'd written for her. I let her know that if she wanted to hear me play it for her, then she would have to fight to get better. I suppose that this information was sort of revealing in and of itself; you have to feel pretty strongly about someone to be inspired enough to compose a song about them. But whatever—she could make what she wanted of it, assuming she could even hear me.

Even though we'd already talked about it, I told her again about the first time I saw her, laughing as she climbed down the train steps with her luggage and a baguette. I'd locked my gaze on her, struck by her guileless, carefree smile in the midst of a frustrating situation. And then my eyes had remained on her, soaking in her simple, natural beauty.

"When you looked up, and your eyes met mine, Bella . . . something happened." I chuckled at myself, trying to describe the indescribable. "It was like you were the Enterprise, and you'd locked your tractor beam on me, pulling me in. I was helpless."

I laughed, rubbing the back of my neck with my free hand. "Oh, damn, you're going to give me shit for that—I just know it. Yes, I'm a fucking trekkie, Bella. I don't think we ever talked about my _Star Trek_ addiction, did we?"

"Edward?" Emmett's voice had never sounded so timid. "I'm sorry, but you're going to have to come out to the waiting room for a while. Bella's friend, Angela, is here. And her dad just arrived. They both want to see her now."

_Goddamnit motherfucking hell._ The idea of leaving her side was nearly physically painful. I groaned audibly, closing my eyes and holding Bella's hand against my cheek.

"Dude, I know it's hard for you, but they've been very generous. You've been in here for a couple of hours already."

Two hours? I had no idea. I nodded, letting out a sigh as I stood. I had no rights to Bella, so I couldn't take more than my fair share of time with her. Her family had more right to be by her side than I did. I was nothing but an ex-boyfriend. Hell, I couldn't even honestly say that I held that status. Had I been her boyfriend, considering we'd only been together for less than a week? From the outside looking in, people would probably say that I was just a fling, nothing more than a passing affair. But outsiders couldn't know the depth of connection that transpired during that short time together. Though Bella had ended things between us, which hurt like hell, I knew it wasn't because she hadn't felt it, too.

I leaned down, pressing a kiss to Bella's forehead. "I'll be back soon, beautiful."

I followed Emmett back to the waiting area. Alice hurried over, pulling me by the elbow toward a middle-aged man who was staring intently at me. This had to be Bella's dad; they had the same dark hair and brown eyes.

"Edward, this is Bella's father, Charlie. He just arrived from the airport. And Charlie, this is Edward." Alice looked back at me. "I explained to Charlie that we all met while traveling in Europe."

I offered my hand to him. "I'm happy to meet you, sir. I, uh, well . . . I just wish it was under different circumstances." The man just stared at me, his arms folded across his chest.

"Bella never mentioned you," he finally said somewhat gruffly. Charlie's glare was constant and penetrating. He uncrossed his arms, his thumb and finger stroking his moustache as if in deep thought. "She told me many things about her time in Europe, but nothing about meeting somebody important enough to warrant flying out here like you have."

"Well, sir, all I can tell you is that she became very important to me, and that's why I'm here."

His gaze never wavered, but neither did mine. I looked him straight in the eyes until finally he spoke again. "I suppose she can use all the support she can get right now," Charlie mumbled before turning around. "Renee, please show me to her room."

I looked at Alice questioningly, somewhat perplexed by Charlie's reaction to me. Had he given Emmett the third degree, too? Alice just shrugged.

While brooding a bit about Charlie's surly response to me, I turned my head to see a young woman with long, black hair walking toward me. She was looking me right in the eyes. Why the fuck was everyone staring at me? First Charlie, and now this chick. My eyes darted away from her scrutinizing stare, and I rubbed my whiskered jaw in frustration.

When she stood right in front of me, I looked at her again, relieved to see that her gaze, though intense, held nothing but warmth.

"Edward, this is Bella's friend, Angela," Alice explained.

I half-smiled and nodded, extending my hand to her. Unlike Charlie, she smiled and shook my hand eagerly.

"Edward, I've heard so much about you." Her smile seemed genuine, yet it wasn't reflected in her tear-filled eyes.

"Well, I'm glad to know she told _someone_ about me," I mumbled, not aware my words were dripping in sarcasm until they were out of my mouth. I pulled my hand away, shoving both into my pockets to keep them still. I felt fidgety and restless; I needed a smoke break sooner rather than later.

"Oh, you mean Charlie? Don't worry about that," she reassured me. "Bella is pretty close to her dad, but I don't think she has that type of relationship with him. She probably just wasn't comfortable talking to him about her love life. But, Edward?" She paused until I met her gaze again. "To me, she talked about pretty much nothing else _but_ you."

* * *

I didn't know what the hell to say to that. For a brief moment, I felt a flutter of hope, but it vanished just as quickly. Bella might have talked to Angela about me, but I was pretty sure it wasn't all good. It certainly wasn't good enough for her to change her mind and pick up the phone to call me. She probably told Angela what an asshole I was for not making certain that she knew about my reenlistment from the beginning. She might have complained that I was a juvenile when it came to communication skills. And she would be right to say such things.

"Thanks," I muttered. "Um, I'm going to get some air if you'll excuse me, Angela."

I turned quickly, taking long strides to the elevator, anxiously pressing the down arrow button. I couldn't seem to get out of the claustrophobic waiting room fast enough.

I didn't really need to get some air as I'd told Angela—I needed some fucking nicotine. But I had to be outside in the fresh air in order to light up. I'd found a designated smoking area on the hospital's patio. They'd even been nice enough to provide concrete tables and benches to make us more comfortable while sucking the murderous toxins into our lungs.

I blew out a puff of smoke while gazing up at the clear, sunny sky. Skies like this were few and far between in Seattle. I'd been outside less than ten minutes, and I was already getting a little too warm. A glance at my watch told me it was only 7:30 in the morning, yet the temperature had to be somewhere in the seventies already.

Dangling my burning cigarette from my lips, I pushed up the sleeves of my black, long-sleeved Henley. I hadn't even packed any short-sleeved shirts, not having the presence of mind to consider the differences in climate as I'd frantically stuffed whatever clothing I put my hands on into a duffle bag. I supposed it didn't matter. If I had my way, I'd be spending most of my time inside Bella's room by her side, rather than out here in the desert sun.

"Do you mind if I join you?" The voice was unmistakably Alice's—annoyingly high-pitched but unarguably kind.

I turned around, shrugging. "Sure, if you're into second-hand smoke," I said sarcastically with a smirk.

"What the fuck?" Alice put her hand on her hip, her tiny features grimacing in obvious irritation. "You don't smoke, Edward."

"I know," I said quietly, feeling weak for succumbing to the addiction I'd been free of for so long. I took one long drag on my cigarette before snuffing it out in a nearby ashtray.

I sat down at the nearest table and looked up at Alice. She smiled with her eyes and scooted onto the bench next to me. We sat in silence for a couple of minutes at least, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Alice was easy to be with.

"I know you love her," she blurted, matter-of-factly.

My eyes darted to hers in surprise. She held my gaze, probably waiting for me to confirm her statement. I wasn't about to tell Alice I was in love with Bella before I'd even told Bella herself. That just wasn't fucking right. So I looked away, focusing instead on the noisy bird that was perched in a tree bordering the hospital's patio.

"So, because of that, I know you're hurting right now," she eventually continued when met with my silence. "I thought you should know something. I don't know . . . maybe it will help."

She had my attention. I twisted on the bench to face her. Alice's eyes were less puffy than earlier, but they were still bloodshot. "What is it?"

"I don't want to say too much because it isn't my story to tell. But I will tell you that I know for a fact that Bella was very close to reaching out to you. She was working hard to overcome her fears . . . the fears that led her to leave you like she did. And I can tell you that she missed you terribly, every single day."

Though I'd never wish unhappiness on Bella, in some sick way, it did comfort me to know that I wasn't alone in my misery. She had missed me back, and that was really fucking good to know. "Thank you, Al . . . for telling me."

"You're very welcome, Edward."

I pulled out my pack of smokes, and Alice sighed dramatically.

"Sorry, but I've gotta have one more before I go back in," I mumbled, sticking a cigarette between my lips. She glared at me while I held the lighter to it, inhaling deeply.

"So what's up with the hospital shirt?" I blew smoke over my shoulder, away from Alice.

She just looked at me, like I was a dumbass or something. "C'mon, Edward, think about it. Don't make me say it."

Maybe I was a dumbass because I didn't know what the fuck she was talking about. I held her gaze while trying to figure out why she wasn't wearing her own clothes.

Alice finally spoke, her tone impatient. "I was there right after it happened?" She said it as a question, obviously trying to clue me in. "I fucking held her in my arms, Edward."

"Okay, I get it," I huffed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "_Fuck_." I took a deep breath, images of both Bella and James covered in blood now assaulting my mind. "I'm sorry you had to see her like that, Al. I know what that's like."

"Yeah, I suppose you do." Her whispered voice cracked, and I knew without looking at her that she was crying again.

Stepping into the waiting room, I saw Emmett talking to some guy. Alice nudged my arm. "My ex," she whispered before walking across the room. I followed behind, and they both stood up to greet us.

* * *

Before Alice could begin with formal introductions, her ex promptly extended his hand to me. "You must be Edward," he drawled. "I'm Jasper. I'm a good friend of Bella's." His eyes darted over to Alice. "And Alice's," he added after a pause, smiling at her.

She stepped closer to him, pulling him into a hug. "I'm so glad you're here, Jazzy," she whispered, but not quietly enough that I couldn't hear.

I glanced at Emmett, wondering if it was weird for him to have Alice's very recent ex-boyfriend here. As well as I knew Emmett, his expression was unreadable as he watched Alice embracing Jasper.

When she pulled away from him, I realized I hadn't even spoken to him. "It's good to meet you, Jasper," I said. I couldn't manage a smile when my heart was fucking bursting with worry, but I hoped my tone was kind enough.

He seemed like a decent guy—more than decent actually. I couldn't really put my finger on it, but he had a certain energy about him. It was positive energy, without a doubt.

"Excuse me." I heard a clearing of a throat, and we all turned to see a silver-haired man in a white doctor's coat standing in the doorway. Charlie stood behind him. "Can everyone who is here for Isabella Swan please gather over there?" He motioned to a corner of the room.

Everyone quickly and quietly walked to the other side of the room. When we were all seated, the doctor began.

"I'm Dr. Tasset, Isabella's surgeon. I'm here to inform you of her current condition and prognosis, and Mr. Swan has requested that all of Isabella's family and friends be included.

"Some of this information was already communicated to Isabella's parents following the surgery. However, I'll be happy to repeat it since many of you weren't here at that time."

Dr. Tassett cleared his throat, looking around at the solemn group. "Isabella suffered a single gunshot wound to the chest. The bullet lodged just millimeters from her heart."

I could not believe what I was hearing. Her injury was much fucking worse than I'd ever imagined. The bullet was mere fucking millimeters from her heart? I dropped my head into my hands, unable to mask the panic that was most likely written all over my face. While hiding behind my hands, I forced myself to focus on what the doctor was saying.

"When she arrived in the ER, blood was pooling in the chest cavity, which necessitated a chest tube. She was taken immediately to surgery. To perform the necessary operation, the aorta was clamped in order to keep blood flowing to her brain and heart.

"Thankfully, we were able to repair the damage. Isabella is stable, but she is unquestionably still very sick. The next twenty-four hours are critical. Now it's up to her body to repair itself and fight off any possible infections, which is always a potential risk. I don't want to alarm you because it's unlikely, but she could have suffered neurological damage from lack of blood flow. Once she's awake, we'll run tests to rule that out."

My mind was scrambled, fucking reeling. _The next twenty-four hours are critical…possible infection…neurological damage. _It was suddenly unbearably hot in here; I was suffocating. A drop of perspiration dripped down my forehead.

"I understand this is a difficult time, but because Isabella is young and healthy, the odds are good that she will have the strength to recover from this trauma. Are there any questions?"

I wiped at the sweat running down my forehead. The hot Iraqi sun was fucking relentless, making my skin sizzle like bacon in a frying pan. Mortar rounds were nearly bursting my eardrums, and shells were flying fucking everywhere. I laid down some heavy fire on the enemy across the road. And then I saw him.

James was lying in the middle of the damn street. I ran to him, bullets dancing around my ankles as I scrambled across the road. When I reached him, I dove on top of him, covering him with my body. Still in a prone position over him, I laid out some suppressive fire on the enemy. I couldn't fucking pick him up while shooting, so I dragged him out of the street with one arm while I fired my weapon with my other hand.

When I had him safely behind a military vehicle, I gasped in horror when I got a good look at him. James was bleeding profusely from two wounds in his chest. I grabbed his face, shaking it. "James, James!" Then I pressed my palms against his wounds. There was so much fucking blood. "Goddamnit, James! I will kick your fucking ass if you don't wake up." James' eyes fluttered open.

"You're going to be fine, man," I told him. "Just hang on. I'm going to get you some help real soon."

"Edward! Edward, talk to me, man." I knew that voice; it was Emmett.

Emmett? Why in the hell was Emmett here? I looked around, but I didn't see him anywhere. It was just me and James hiding behind the armored vehicle. I looked back at James. He hadn't said anything, but his eyes were on me. "Hey, Winters, did you hear something?" I asked him, hoping that I wasn't losing my mind.

James groaned. "Yeah, Cullen, I heard fucking mortar rounds. What the fuck did you hear?"

"Edward, I need you to take a deep breath and let it out very slowly," Emmett spoke again, his voice calm. I looked around again, feeling more than a little spooked.

When I my lowered my gaze, James closed his eyes, his head flopping to the side. "James! Don't you fucking dare!" I felt for his pulse. Nothing. "James!" I yelled and screamed at the top of my lungs, rage threatening to split me in half.

I was so fucking hot, and now I couldn't breathe. I gasped, but I couldn't get enough air into my lungs to relieve the tight constriction.

"Edward, it's not real. You're not in Iraq. You're not with James. Take another deep breath, Edward." Emmett's commanding voice faded away, and I fell into blackness.

* * *

**A/N: I'm anxious to hear how you liked being in Edward's head after all this time. IF I did my job as a writer, then you clearly understood that Edward was having a PTSD flashback in the waiting room while listening to the doctor explain Bella's surgery and prognosis. **

**I have no medical background; however, I did do some research, and Bella's injury and surgery is based on an actual gunshot wound I found online. Still, those of you with medical training might find some errors****—if so, my apologies. **


	24. A Living Nightmare

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: Pickwicksociety, I heart your face for always being a straight shooter. I know you'll never blow sunshine up my ass but always tell me like it is. **

**GuitarGirl, you're great with sentence structure and making sure things make sense. I value your opinion more than you know.**

**Mel/mcc101180, I bow down to the greatness of your grammar skills. Mel is my own personal Grammar Girl.**

* * *

_**Chapter 24 – A Living Nightmare**_

~*~ _Edward_ ~*~

The soothing black that encompassed me disappeared all too quickly, giving way to Emmett's booming voice. His face, etched with worry, was inches from mine, and his hands gripped my shoulders. Slowly, I became aware of my trembling hands in my lap and the raspy sound of my rapid, labored breathing. Disoriented, I wiped a bead of sweat from my brow before it dripped into my eye. _What the fuck just happened? _

"Edward? You're fine," Emmett whispered, staring at me intently. "You're just fine, buddy."

My eyes darted to a figure standing next to him. Bella's dad stared back at me, his expression unreadable. And then I saw Angela, Alice and Jasper, Renee and Phil, and even the fucking doctor. They were all gathered around me, gawking at me like I was a freak show. _Fuck my life!_ I must have fallen asleep in the waiting room—I'd dreamed about James again.

"Let's go get some fresh air, bro." Emmett tugged me out of the chair by my elbow, and I eagerly complied, fucking embarrassed and eager to get away from everyone.

"You might want to stop in the E.R. downstairs and get him checked out."

_What the hell?_ I glanced over my shoulder to see that the voice belonged to Bella's doctor, whatever the hell his name was. He was speaking to Emmett, but Em just nodded at the doctor and continued leading me out of the room.

I followed him to the elevator, still in a daze but confident that he wouldn't dare lead me to the emergency room. After all, I'd had a nightmare not an aneurism.

We rode down in silence. As we exited the elevator, Emmett said, "I don't know about you, but I'm tired as fuck after being awake all night. Let's get some coffee." I nodded in agreement.

After a quick stop in the cafeteria, we ended up outside on the smoking patio with large cups of coffee. I gulped mine down in between puffs off my cigarette, determined to not fall asleep again for the rest of the day. Generous helpings of nicotine and caffeine were necessary.

"I don't understand what the hell happened," I mumbled. "I mean, I know I've been awake all night, but I can't believe I'd fall asleep while the doctor was telling us about Bella. What the fuck is that?"

I looked at Emmett, waiting for some best friend feedback. He didn't say anything, which was extremely out of character for him. And the way he was looking at me was . . . concerning?

"What? Fuck!" I slammed my fist onto the table. I took a deep breath, steadying my emotions before looking back at Emmett. "How bad was it, Em?" I said quietly. "Did I say a bunch of shit?"

"What you said wasn't so bad. All you said was James's name . . . just once."

"Oh, that's all? So I didn't scream or thrash around or anything?"

"No, you were just breathing heavy, like you were winded. And you were sweating. Your face was in your hands most of the time. And, uh, you were pulling at your hair."

"That's pretty fucking embarrassing, but it could have been worse." I chuckled bitterly, tousling my mop of hair with my free hand. "Damn, I can't believe Bella's dad saw that. He probably thinks I'm a nutcase now." I shook my head and looked at Emmett, wondering why he was so quiet again.

I knew Emmett inside and out—his expressions, his idiosyncrasies, and his nervous ticks. His eyes darted away from mine, and his expression was pained. He was upset.

"What the fuck, Em? Did I embarrass you or something?"

"No, of course not, you ass!" He scrubbed his face with his hands before exhaling loudly. "Edward," he said seriously, looking at me again, "you weren't asleep."

I paused a moment, processing the absurd thing he'd just said. "Of course, I was. I remember the dream."

"Edward, I was sitting right next to you. You were listening to the doctor talk. Your eyes were open. You were _not_ asleep. But suddenly you were breathing heavy and hiding your face in your hands. And then you said James's name. You wouldn't answer me when I tried to talk to you. You weren't there anymore, Edward. Your mind was in Iraq, but you were not fucking asleep." He expelled a loud breath. "You were having a flashback, man."

_What the mother fucking fuck? _I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I didn't want to believe him, but I knew Em, and I couldn't refute the truth and the anxiety reflected in his eyes. _Fuck me!_ Nothing like that had ever happened to me before. Sure, I had nightmares about Iraq all the fucking time. And once in awhile something would set me off, making me irritable and on edge, but I'd never done anything like that before. And for it to happen in front of Bella's family and friends—I was fucking mortified. Now, even if she'd take me back, all of them would think I wasn't good enough for her. Who would be okay with their friend or daughter getting involved with a head case like me? I was fucked! Iraq just kept on fucking me over—again and again.

I bolted off the bench, lighting up another cigarette as I anxiously circled the patio's perimeter. Emmett remained at the table, allowing me some space for a brief minute. Then he was crossing the patio until he stood right in front of me, right up in my face.

"Edward, you've got to get some fucking help with this!"

"Right now all I can think about is Bella," I mumbled.

"I know, man, but later . . . soon, okay? This isn't going to fix itself."

"I'll think about it." I turned away from him, signaling that I was finished with this conversation.

"Okay, then. I'm going to head back upstairs." Emmett knew I needed time to myself without me having to ask for it. That's just the way it was with us.

"Come and get me if she wakes up."

"Yep," he answered, walking toward the door.

Staring into the distance, I listened for the sound of the patio door opening and closing, and then I looked around. It was surprising that the patio was deserted on a Saturday, but I was grateful for some semblance of privacy, albeit in a public setting.

After snuffing out my cigarette, I sat back down at the table and picked up my now lukewarm coffee. I gulped the rest of it down, my fatigued body needing every drop of caffeine. I crossed my arms on the table, using them for a pillow for my weary head. I was so fucking tired, physically and emotionally.

I ached to be at Bella's side. I wanted nothing more than to go upstairs and hold her hand, but I dreaded facing her friends and family after the spectacle of fucked-up-ness that they'd all witnessed. Especially Charlie. The person whose approval mattered the most had just seen me at my worst. I needed to get my head together and summon my courage before I could face him. The sun's warmth was soothing and relaxing, and my eyelids became heavy until I couldn't fight against the need to close them.

Voices startled me from a dreamless sleep, jolting me upright. I turned to see a middle-aged couple coming through the door, talking rather loudly. I rubbed my eyes, wondering how long I'd slept. Apparently, it was long enough to get a kink in my neck but not long enough to enter dream sleep. Thank fuck for that. I stretched my arms, arching my back and moving my head from side to side, trying to stretch out my tightened muscles.

I lit another cigarette, deciding I needed one more before heading upstairs to face my humiliation head on. I couldn't put it off any longer—I needed to be with Bella like I needed air. It was probably ridiculous, but I felt that if I was with her, she wouldn't be able to slip away.

"I'd reckon those things are more dangerous than a tour in Iraq." I didn't need to turn around to know that the gruff, male voice belonged to Charlie. But, to be polite, I turned my head. He was standing behind me, a large coffee cup in his hand and a smirk on his face.

Damn it, Emmett has a big fucking mouth. But I supposed he had to tell them all something after my display of crazy in the waiting room. I wondered exactly how much he'd told them.

"I don't usually smoke," I mumbled, chuckling at the absurdity of my statement as I blew out a cloud of smoke. "It's just . . . the last five weeks have been very difficult, and I started up an old habit."

Charlie sat down across from me. He took a drink from his coffee, staring at me the whole time. "What happened five weeks ago?" he asked, setting the cup on the table.

I hadn't expected him to ask me something so direct and obviously personal. I looked down, avoiding his penetrating stare, but there was something about Charlie that demanded honesty. I could tell he was a straight shooter, and he could probably smell a line of bullshit from even the most skilled bullshitters around.

I took another drag from my cigarette, contemplating how best to answer him. I blew the smoke behind me, away from Charlie, before looking him in the eyes. "That was the last time I saw Bella."

His eyes narrowed, and he nodded his head slowly. I could see understanding etched in his features as he slowly put together the pieces of the story of Bella and me. Before he could ask any more uncomfortable questions, I purposefully changed the subject.

"Bella tells me that you're the chief of police in your town?"

Charlie smiled at me, but it was a knowing smile—like he knew exactly what I was doing by asking that question. But he humored me by answering it, allowing the change of subjects.

"That's right. I hope in some small way that I'm making our country a better place with my service as a police officer. But what I do is small potatoes compared to what you've done for our country . . . and what you're going to do again."

Yep, Emmett had told Charlie everything. Maybe that was a good thing—it meant I wouldn't have to talk about it, trying to explain my outburst.

"No, sir. Both of us work to keep Americans safe—it's all the same."

Charlie laughed. "Sure, we have the same goal, but otherwise our jobs are not the same. Last time I checked there weren't any landmines or heavy artillery around Forks, Washington."

I didn't know what to say. Praise for my military service always made me as uncomfortable as fuck. I didn't deserve accolades—the men who gave everything, like James, were the ones who should be honored. So I changed the subject again, to one that was equally uncomfortable but necessary.

"Um, sir?" I twisted around on the bench, reaching to snuff out my cigarette in a sand-filled ashtray. I turned back and looked at Charlie. "I want to apologize to you for what happened earlier, for interrupting the doctor."

I couldn't maintain eye contact; I was utterly humiliated knowing he'd seen me literally out of my mind. "Nothing like that's ever happened before," I mumbled, gripping the back of my neck nervously. "What you must think—" I trailed off, unable to say that he must think I'm a crazy fuck-up who isn't who he'd want for his daughter.

Charlie cleared his throat. "Edward?" I hesitantly looked at him. "What I think is that you're in love with my daughter."

_Holy fucking shit! _I was stunned into paralysis. It took me a second to realize I probably looked like a dumbass, my mouth hanging wide open and my eyes still locked on his. I looked down, fiddling with my lighter. I opened and closed my mouth to speak a couple of times, probably looking like a goddamn guppy. Charlie wasn't helping me out either. He just sat there quietly, watching me flounder.

Finally, I found my voice. "It doesn't matter, sir. It's . . . it's over. She was pretty upset when she found out I'm going back to Iraq soon."

"Ahh, I see," Charlie said, nodding as he put together the last piece of the Bella and Edward puzzle. "Well, Bella has always been headstrong and stubborn as a mule, but should she ever change her mind, I'd be . . . well, let's just say, I hope she _does_ change her mind."

"Thank you, sir." I smiled, the weight on my chest feeling a little bit lighter. "So do I."

Charlie stood up, taking a drink of his coffee before tossing the empty cup in a nearby trash can. "Edward, you didn't fly all this way to sit out here hiding."

Hell, Charlie was not a bullshitter, just as I'd thought. I looked at him and quirked a brow, wondering where he was going with this. I anticipated a chastising lecture of sorts. I was wrong.

"Let's go see our girl," he said, slapping me on the back.

* * *

Charlie and I spent a couple of hours with Bella. Much of that time was spent in a surprisingly comfortable silence, but we did get some talking in. He asked me about my family, why I'd joined the Army, and how Bella and I had met. He, in turn, told me a few stupid criminal stories from his years as a small town police officer. The best part of our time with Bella was when he talked to her about her childhood, which I appreciated because it gave me more insight to the woman that Bella had become.

"Bella was my favorite fishing partner. Even as a little girl, she was a better companion than some of my buddies," Charlie said proudly. "She could sit for hours, never whining to go to the bathroom or wanting to stop to have a snack. And she always remembered to talk quietly so she didn't scare the fish away. Not like my friend, Billy—he yammers on like an old, deaf woman."

He laughed, stroking her hand. "Isn't that right, honey?" he asked, looking at Bella. "When you're better, I want you to come visit me. We'll go fishing again, like old times. Edward here can come, too." He glanced over at me. "Do you fish, son?"

"No, my family never did outdoorsy stuff like that," I answered quietly. "But I'd like to learn."

"Hear that, Bella? Edward needs you to teach him how to fish. Do you think this city boy could handle putting live bait on a hook?" Charlie looked at me and began laughing loudly. I couldn't help but chuckle along with him as I held Bella's hand to my cheek. Charlie was pretty fucking cool.

After being forced out of Bella's room by two headstrong women named Alice and Renee, the rest of us had decided to grab some lunch in the cafeteria. I hadn't realized I was fucking famished until I sat down and took the first bite of my cheeseburger. I looked around the large, round table at the people who love Bella—Phil, Charlie, Angela, Jasper, and Emmett. Everyone was chewing with eyes down, avoiding discussion of what was on our minds.

It was all so surreal. One minute I was in my Seattle condo, and the next I found myself sitting in a hospital cafeteria, eating with complete strangers while the woman I love teeters on the brink of life and death. It felt like a dream. No, it was a nightmare. Ironically, I was living my own version of Bella's worst nightmare. She'd left me because she was terrified of the agony of loss—the loss of me if I didn't come back from Iraq. She was right to fear it. I wouldn't wish the suffocating despair that I felt right now on my worst fucking enemy.

Back in the waiting room after stopping in the bathroom, I set the alarm on my watch for forty-five minutes. Knowing it usually takes one to two hours to enter REM sleep, I figured a short nap would be safely dream-free. I was even more fucking tired than before now that I had a full stomach. As I tried to get comfortable on one end of the sofa that I was sharing with Emmett, Alice and Renee came in, announcing they were going to get some lunch.

"Jasper? Phil? I think it's your turn to see her," Renee said, pushing open the door to the hallway. Alice looked at Emmett, her eyebrow raised as she nodded her head toward the door. Emmett hopped up and silently followed them out.

I looked at Jasper sitting in a chair across the room, wondering if he'd picked up on anything between Alice and Emmett. His burning stare at the door as they left together, along with his clenched jaw, told me that he had. He sighed and stood up, following Phil out toward Bella's room.

With Emmett gone, I now had the entire sofa to myself. I stretched out and closed my eyes, thinking about the sadness on Jasper's face as he'd watched Emmett with Alice. I felt really bad for the guy, but at the same time, I was happy for Emmett. I had no doubt that Em had genuine feelings for Alice. He was different with her than he was with other women. Normally, the extent of conversation about the women in his life was about how hot some gal was or whether she was a good fuck or not. He didn't talk about them much otherwise.

But ever since the first day he'd met Alice, he hadn't shut the fuck up about her. Sure, he thought she was hot, and he expounded on that often, but that wasn't all. Emmett had told me stories about funny things Alice had said, as if I wasn't there for half of those incidents. Besides her wicked wit, he was attracted to her intelligence, her kindness, and her energy. He'd started referring to her as his sunshine because she was so warm and energetic. If I hadn't met Bella, I would have told him he sounded like a girl and to check to make sure his dick was still intact, but I'd be a fucking hypocrite if I gave him shit. I had it just as bad for Bella as he did for Alice. I just hoped that Alice felt as strongly for him. Em was the best guy I knew, and he deserved the love of a high-quality woman like Alice.

When my alarm woke me up from what felt like a ten second nap, I was still just as fucking worn-out as before. Yet, as soon as Phil wandered in, telling me I could take his place and go see Bella, I propelled myself off of the sofa, instantly energized.

I entered her room quietly, Jasper nodding to me as I made my way to the side of her bed. He sat on the other side, holding her lifeless, pale hand. I took in her appearance, my heart clenching in disappointment to see that she was exactly as I'd left her. Her head was in the same position, her hair splayed across the pillow exactly as it had been, and her skin was just as pale as before. No movement, no signs of life, except for the beeping of the heart monitor and the whooshing of the ventilator. I leaned over, fanning her hair out differently by running my fingers through it. My palm settled on her neck while I stroked her silky cheek with my thumb.

"She's going to be so happy when she wakes up to find you here," Jasper said, his voice upbeat.

"I hope you're right," I mumbled.

He smiled. "Oh, I _know_ I'm right."

I looked at him questioningly.

"Inside information," he explained. "I could tell you, but she would _kick. my. ass_, sooo . . . you'll just have to trust me."

"Good to know." I smiled in spite of my tear-filled eyes. "Thanks, man."

Eventually, Jasper excused himself, explaining that he was going to send someone else in. During the few minutes I was alone with Bella, I told her things that I wished I'd said when we were in Europe, but I hadn't because I'd never dreamed that our time together would be so short. I regretted that she didn't know how I felt about the times we'd made love. Sure, we'd both said things afterward like "Wow" or "That was amazing," but those exclamations didn't even begin to define the experience for me.

I kissed her cheek, my lips lingering before moving to her ear. "I think about the times we made love all the time, baby. Not in a perverted way, either." I chuckled, nuzzling her cheek.

"I don't know how to explain it, but there were times when I felt like you were seeing into my soul, like we were connected in some spiritual way or something. It was the best sex I've ever had in my life, Bella. Not because of the physical satisfaction, though that was definitely there. It was more than that, something on another level . . . I don't know." I pressed my lips to her forehead, my mouth then trailing down to her ear. "I want to make love to you again, beautiful," I whispered. "I want that more than anything. Wake up, baby . . . please, wake up."

I startled at the sound of the door opening. I turned my head, relieved to see that it was just Emmett.

"How are ya holding up, man?" Emmett asked, walking to the other side of the bed.

"I don't know," I mumbled, shrugging. "I'm better when I'm in here."

Emmett squeezed Bella's hand. "Bella, this is ridiculous—I think you've had more than enough beauty sleep," he said dramatically. "Besides, you're already gorgeous, and if you get any more beauty sleep, you're going to be so fucking stunning that we'll be blinded by your exquisiteness."

Emmett grinned, the dimples that women seemed to love making an appearance. "Besides, you need to wake up and put my boy out of his misery."

* * *

The afternoon slowly passed in much the same way, everyone taking turns at Bella's side. I had taken a few bathroom and smoke breaks, and I'd choked down another subpar meal in the cafeteria. But most of the time when I wasn't with Bella, I was in the waiting room because I didn't want to be too far away when she woke up.

Angela and Jasper had both left around dinner time, making us promise we'd call them if Bella's condition changed in any way. Alice and Renee were in with Bella, and I wasn't sure where the hell Charlie had wandered off to. Phil, Emmett and I were relegated to the waiting room, along with another family who were camped out on the other side of the room.

"C'mon, Edward, it's a good distraction." Emmett nudged my arm. "Just one game of Rummy?"

Emmett had been harassing me for at least thirty minutes, trying to get me to play cards with him. After politely telling him no more than once, I finally lost it.

"I can't fucking concentrate, okay, Emmett?" I said gruffly, not quite yelling but almost. "Would you be up for a fucking game of cards if Alice was in there hooked up to all those machines?"

Emmett's eyes darted away, focusing in on something behind me. I twisted on the sofa to see Alice and Renee standing right behind me.

Alice cleared her throat. "Um, guys, it's getting late. Why don't you both come back to the house with me and get a good night's rest. We've all been awake for nearly two days."

"It's nice of you to offer your home, Alice, but . . . um, no, I don't fucking think so," I said calmly.

Renee stepped closer to me, patting my hand that was resting on the arm of the sofa. "Edward, they'll call if there's any change. You have to get some sleep."

"I can sleep here. I'm not going anywhere until she wakes up." I looked over at Emmett. "But you should go with Alice."

Emmett stood up, standing beside Alice. "Yeah, of course I'll go with her."

The door swung open and Charlie walked in. "What's goin' on?" he asked, sauntering over to our huddled group. Phil put down his magazine and joined Renee, wrapping his arm around her waist.

"We were just talking about the need for sleep," Alice explained, looking at Charlie. "I have a guest room that you're welcome to use."

"Thanks, Alice, but I'm staying here," he said with finality.

"I understand. But the offer stands, whenever you want to get a shower or some sleep, okay?"

"Thanks, Alice."

* * *

I awoke abruptly, unsure what had pulled me from my sleep. I rubbed my bleary eyes, trying to focus on Bella's face. The only light in the room was an eerie green glow emanating from the monitors and slivers of moonlight sneaking through the cracks of the window blinds. As my eyes adjusted, I could make out her unchanged face and body, seemingly frozen in time. I sighed in disappointment as I stretched my arms over my head, twisting my torso. My back was fucking aching.

I squinted, making out the time on my watch. It was almost two in the morning, so I'd managed to sleep for about three hours. I'd been able to fall asleep without worrying about embarrassing myself with a nightmare since it was just me and Bella. Even if I had screamed out while dreaming, unfortunately, I didn't have to worry about waking her up.

I had one more hour with her before I was supposed to switch with Charlie and take my turn in the waiting room. There was no point in going back to sleep now. I turned off the unnecessary alarm I'd set on my watch and stood up, stretching my legs and arms. I slipped my right hand into hers and leaned over, resting my cheek on her pillow.

"I need you, Bella," I whispered, my voice raspy with fatigue. My thumb traced light circles on the back of her hand while I nuzzled her cheek, the silk of her hair caressing mine. "I need to be part of your life in some way. I'll take whatever you can give me. Please let me be your friend. I can't go back to how the last five weeks have been."

I closed my eyes, breathing in my Bella's scent. I didn't know if it was her shampoo or lotion or what, but when I inhaled deeply, I caught a faint but familiar hint of coconut. Immediately, images of Bella's sensual, nude body laid out across my bed flickered through my mind. I remembered the mouth-watering scent of coconuts as I'd kissed, licked and nibbled every inch of her pale, satin skin for the first time. I smiled against her cheek, the sweet memory comforting me momentarily.

And then I felt her fingers curl up inside my hand, ever so slightly tickling my palm. I gasped, jerking my head away from hers so I could see her face. The chocolate eyes that I'd been longing to look into for the past five weeks were staring back at me.

"Bella?" I croaked, squeezing her hand gently. Tears filled my eyes immediately while a surge of adrenaline sent my heart racing. I was so fucking relieved.

The confusion etched in her face quickly changed to fear. Her eyes darted around aimlessly as her hands flew up to the breathing tube in her mouth. I reacted quickly, grabbing her hands and pulling them back down before she could pull on the tube.

"It's okay, Bella. You're fine." I held both of her hands, rubbing them with my thumbs. Her eyes were still frantic and unfocused.

I released her hands and cradled her head in my hands. "Look at me, baby," I said, gently turning her head toward me. "That's a tube in your mouth. It's helping you breathe, so you need to leave it alone, okay?"

Her tear-filled eyes held my gaze, and she nodded slightly. I stroked Bella's cheek, smiling widely at her as another tear escaped my eye, dropping unashamedly onto the blanket that covered her. "Don't be scared, Bella. You're going to be fine. I'm so fucking happy to see your beautiful eyes."

Blinding light poured into the room. I squinted, looking toward the door as a nurse entered with a smile on her face.

"Well, hello, Isabella!" she said cheerfully, looking at Bella as she approached the bed. "So this is why your heart monitor went crazy."

"My name is Tess," she said, pushing buttons on the machines at the head of the bed. "I'm your nighttime nurse."

She stepped to the side of the bed and took hold of Bella's hand. "Isabella, I need to know if you're in any pain. Squeeze my hand once for yes and twice for no."

I couldn't tell how Bella responded, but after a brief pause, the nurse told Bella she'd get her taken care of in a minute. Then Tess looked at me. "Sir, perhaps you could inform her family that she's awake while I examine her."

Oh, damn! I was so caught up in the intensity of Bella waking up, I hadn't even thought about Charlie. I needed to tell him right away. "Oh, uh, yeah, I should do that," I answered, looking back at Bella. "I'll be right back, baby, okay?"

Her eyebrows knit together, and her eyes became frantic again. She squeezed my hand, pulling it tightly to her chest.

The nurse chuckled, patting Bella's arm. "It's okay, Isabella. He'll be right back." She glanced over at me, smiling. "Is she your girlfriend?"

"Uhh—" My eyes darted from the nurse's knowing smile to Bella's wide and glistening eyes. At that moment, a tear fell, rolling back into her hairline. "No, she's not," I said regretfully, wiping the wetness from her face with my thumb.

My hand was still firmly grasped in hers, clutched to her chest. I gave her hand a squeeze and leaned in closer, our eyes locked on each other. "She's the love of my life."


	25. A Blessing

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. **

**A/N: Pickwicksociety, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180 were the beta masterminds behind this chapter. **

* * *

_**Chapter 25 – A Blessing**_

**~*~ _Edward_ ~*~**

The next best thing to seeing Bella's beautiful brown eyes staring back at me had been seeing matching brown eyes twinkling with joy when I woke Charlie, telling him that Bella was finally conscious. We'd both nearly sprinted back to her room where we found the nurse administering pain medication through the I.V. Before leaving the room, the nurse explained that the doctor would arrive in a few hours to examine Bella and run some tests.

We'd each held her hands, stroking her arms and reassuring her that she was going to be just fine. Charlie had told her that Alice, Angela, and Jasper had been at the hospital for her and that they'd be back in the morning. Bella's eyes had lit up, clearly surprised, when I told her Emmett was here as well.

But within just a few minutes, when her eyes began to flutter and then close, panic gripped me. My body language must have shouted my fears because Charlie had immediately reassured me that Bella was simply falling asleep due to the pain meds and had not slipped back into unconsciousness.

Though we'd promised to call everyone when Bella woke up, there was no point in doing so at three in the morning since she'd fallen asleep so quickly. Charlie had stayed with her, while I took my turn in the waiting room. I knew there was some concern about possible neurological damage, but I already knew Bella was going to be okay. I could see it in her eyes—she was definitely all there. Thank fucking god! Confident that she'd make a full recovery, the suffocating weight of worry and grief had lifted from me, allowing me to fall asleep with surprising ease.

I rubbed my eyes and yawned, swinging my legs onto the floor and stretching them out. With a 6'1" frame curled up on a much shorter sofa, my legs felt like they'd atrophied in a bent position. I glanced at the clock on the wall, grimacing as I swallowed thickly. Damn! It felt and tasted like something had died in my mouth. I hadn't showered or brushed my teeth since Friday morning, and it was now nearly six in the morning on Sunday. I suppose I could have taken some time to brush my teeth, but, honestly, it hadn't even crossed my mind. Before Bella had woken, personal hygiene was the least of my worries.

Bleary-eyed, I stumbled out of the waiting room. After stopping in the bathroom, I lit a cigarette while dialing Emmett as I made my way through the parking lot. I passed on the good news about Bella, telling him to ask Alice to call the others. After retrieving my duffel bag from the rental car, I headed back inside and found a bathroom on the main floor.

I put on some deodorant in lieu of a badly needed shower and eagerly changed into clean clothes. While brushing my teeth, I stared at my haggard self in the mirror. My hair was nearly always unruly, but today I could be the poster boy for bed head. My mop was longer than it had ever been and having not run a comb through it for a few days, it was downright frightening. The dark shadows under my eyes told the world I was sleep-deprived, and the three days worth of stubble on my face made my new hobo look complete.

I stopped in the cafeteria and sucked down a cup of coffee as quickly as the heat would allow. Back upstairs, after finding the waiting room empty, I dropped my duffel bag behind a floor plant, figuring it would be safe enough. I headed to Bella's room and quietly opened the door, hoping she was awake.

Charlie motioned me in. "Bella just woke up a few minutes ago."

I heard him, but I saw nothing except her big, brown eyes as they followed my movement across the room. I couldn't help but smile—a big, toothy, full-face smile—because my relief and happiness was uncontainable, my energy pulsing and bursting out of me. I slipped my hand into hers as I bent over, pressing my lips to her temple. "Good morning, beautiful," I whispered near her ear.

Pulling away, I stood up but kept my hand laced with hers. Her eyes met mine again, her focus darting rapidly across my face, seemingly studying each of my features. I wasn't sure what to make of it, and I hated having her mind closed to me. I'd have to ask the doctor when they planned to take out her breathing tube.

Our moment was interrupted when Doctor What's-His-Face, who'd thought I needed a visit to the E.R., breezed in with a chart in hand. He immediately banished us to the waiting room, explaining that they needed to conduct a thorough neurological assessment, but he assured us that the nurse would let us know as soon as Bella was back in her room, following various scans and x-rays.

Heading to the waiting room, I asked Charlie if he'd called Renee yet. He said that he'd ducked out of Bella's room about an hour ago, just long enough to do so. Sure enough, Renee and Phil were now in the waiting room, along with Emmett and Alice.

Renee hopped out of her chair, bounding toward us. "Charlie, how is she?" she asked anxiously.

"She's awake. They're running tests right now, so you can't see her just yet," he explained.

As I walked toward Alice and Em, they both stood, meeting me halfway. Emmett slapped me hard on the back, grinning. "I told you it would be okay, dude."

Alice smiled, hugging me tightly. When she pulled away, her smile had faded. "Um, I know they have to run tests, but . . . does she seem . . . okay?"

I smiled, nodding. "Yeah, she's okay. I'm sure of it."

Alice let out a loud sigh, expelling air as if she'd been holding her breath since the moment she'd found Bella shot. "Oh, thank you, Baby Jesus," she muttered under her breath before taking a few steps and nearly collapsing into a chair.

Emmett and I sat down on each side of her. After several minutes of quiet, Alice turned to me. "Edward, you really need to come back to the house to shower and sleep a bit."

"No, thanks," I replied, staring at the floor.

She huffed, and I could just imagine she was rolling her eyes at me, too. "Edward! Listen to me. You're not going to get to see her for awhile anyway. After Renee and Phil spend some time with her, then Jasper and Angela will want their turn. They should be arriving any minute. You've got the hot mess look going on, which I know Bella is a fan of, but there is a difference between _looking_ a mess and actually _being_ a mess. You seriously need a shower, dude."

I feigned shock, my mouth hanging open. "What?" I sniffed my armpit. "Are you saying I stink? I put deodorant on a few minutes ago."

"I've smelled worse," she said, shrugging before erupting in giggles.

Emmett chuckled along with her. "What's so funny, Al?"

"Remember Bella and me telling you about Scary Subway Guy in Rome?"

We both nodded, eyeing her curiously.

"Yeah, well, you smell almost as bad as he did, Edward."

Emmett's laughter bellowed through the room. I glared at him, rolling my eyes in mock annoyance.

"Fine, Alice," I agreed. "I'll leave the hospital for a few hours."

"Great! Hopefully, Charlie will come, too. I'll drive you both there. I just want to see Bella for at least a few minutes first, okay?"

"Of course," I answered. "You know, I'm really glad Bella has a friend like you."

Alice grinned, though her eyes filled with tears. "She's a blessing," she whispered, her voice cracking.

* * *

Charlie refused to leave the hospital until Bella's test results came back. Around noon, Dr. Tasset joined us all in the waiting room and informed us that Bella's scans were normal, which was no surprise to me. He explained that she hadn't suffered any neurological damage and that a full recovery was expected, barring any unforeseen complications like infection.

So Alice was finally able to drag Charlie and me out of the hospital to grab a nap and shower at her and Bella's house. Emmett came along as well because he pretty much went wherever Alice did.

Walking through the front door, Alice told me to make myself at home as she scurried down a hallway with Charlie. As I looked around the room, unexpected anxiety bubbled up in my chest, and I nervously shoved my hands in my jeans' pockets. I barely registered Emmett muttering something about making lunch in the kitchen; I was distracted with unpleasant curiosity about where in the house the crime had occurred. Where had my Bella lain, bleeding, terrified and suffering?

"Edward?"

Startled, I turned around.

"I'll show you where the bathroom is so you can shower," Alice said. "You can sleep in Bella's room. It's just across the hall."

I turned away from her, looking for signs of a break-in. "Where did it happen?" My voice was a strained whisper. I swallowed hard, keeping my emotions in check. "Where did you find her?"

"Edward—" she whined.

I turned to glare at her, to intimidate her into telling me what I wanted to know. She stared right back at me, shaking her head repeatedly. "No, I don't think that's a good idea."

I rolled my eyes, sighing loudly. "Just tell me, Alice."

"No, I will not! It doesn't fucking matter because she's going to be just fine. I'm not going to let you torture yourself imagining her like that."

She grabbed my hand roughly, pulling me toward the hallway. "C'mon! Wouldn't you much rather know where she sleeps?"

I stumbled along behind her, my hand still tightly bound by hers. How does she do that? How does this fiery waif of a girl command such authority and power? I had no idea what it was about her, but I knew that it was pointless to debate the point any further.

She released my hand as we approached a closed door. Flinging it open, she announced, smiling, "Welcome to Bella's sanctuary."

I stepped across the threshold tentatively, feeling like an uninvited guest. I wondered how Bella would feel about me being here. The rich colors of the room were warm and welcoming, much like Bella herself.

"Like I said, the bathroom is across the hall. There are towels in the cabinet under the sink. Get some rest, Edward."

I turned to thank her but was met with the door clicking shut—she was gone. As I walked farther into the room, something on the nightstand caught my eye. I sat on the edge of the bed, gingerly taking the swan figurine into my hands. The sweet memory of the moment I'd given it to her flooded my thoughts. When she'd opened the box, holding up the swan, her smile had been unrestrained, and her eyes had seemed to literally sparkle. I remembered her thanking me, her tone laced with sincerity. And then she'd kissed me so softly.

And then Bella had climbed onto my lap, straddling me. And it wasn't long after that before my face was buried between her creamy white legs, tasting her for the first time. And goddamn motherfucking hell, my Isabella tasted like heaven—sweet as honeysuckle, I swear to god! And believe-fucking-me, not all women taste the same. Some pussies taste . . . just _wrong_. Remembering her taste and visualizing her beautiful pussy, I felt myself growing hard.

I set the swan back on the table, freeing my hands to shift my cock to fit more comfortably in my ever-tightening jeans. Glancing up again, I noticed a candle on the table next to the swan. I must have been so focused on the swan, I hadn't noticed it. Picking it up, I turned the candle in my hands, marveling at the erotic beauty of a man and woman's bodies intertwined, making love.

Still holding the candle, I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes, remembering how Bella had looked that last night. She was laid bare, her smooth, sexy legs spread for me, revealing the most beautiful pussy I'd ever seen. Just as not all women taste good, not all pussies are created equal. It's somewhat mindboggling to me how the same genitals—all with the same parts—can look so different. I've seen pictures of some downright frightening pussies and have even had the extreme displeasure of seeing one, close up and personal. I know those women can't help what God gave them; all I'm saying is that no two pussies are the same. God must have been practicing on all those other women and finally got it right—no, perfect—when he made Bella.

In spite of my erotic thoughts, I felt myself beginning to nod off, so I returned the candle to the table and quickly peeled off my clothes. My boxers were a fucking tent, thanks to fantasizing about Bella. As I crawled under the covers, her scent enveloped me, making my hard-on even harder, uncomfortably so. I thought about taking care of the situation, but I quickly decided against it. First, I was so goddamn tired, and second, it just seemed pervy to get my rocks off in Bella's bed . . . without her . . . or without her even knowing I was here. I grabbed a pillow and hugged it as I closed my eyes, trying to trick my mind into believing that it was Bella in my arms.

* * *

_Someone is laughing_, my brain slowly registered. Momentarily forgetting where I was, I sat up on my elbows, struggling to open my still-tired eyes. Squinting, I looked around, smiling as I realized I was in Bella's bed. I flopped back onto the pillow, my forearm over my eyes, and took myself back to the hot-as-fuck dream that the annoying feminine giggles had pulled me away from.

"Fuck." I groaned, remembering the intensely explicit dream. She was with me in her bed, and we were in the middle of some mind-blowing sex. It had seemed so real. I glanced down at the tented sheet. My cock, still standing tall and begging for attention, apparently believed it was real as well.

"Damn," I muttered to myself. Obviously, it wasn't going to settle down on its own as I'd thought. I'd take care of it in the shower. I glanced at the clock on the nightstand, quickly calculating that I'd managed to sleep about four hours. Wow_. _No nightmares either.

I pulled my crumpled jeans from off the floor, throwing them on quickly, and as I headed for the door, I remembered my duffel bag was in the living room. Oh, that's just fucking great! Charlie could be out there, and here I was sporting a goddamn erection the size of the Empire State Building. Okay, that's an exaggeration. I am above average size, but I'm not that big; though it _felt_ like I had a fucking skyscraper in my jeans. It was becoming more and more uncomfortable, nearly painful.

"Think, think," I grumbled, anxiously rubbing the back of my neck as I paced by the door. The logical solution would be to whack off in Bella's room, but that just seemed wrong. It would be different if she was my girlfriend, but she wasn't. And then there was the problem of the mess. I scanned the room, looking for tissues. No goddamn tissues, so I would have to use my shirt. I huffed in frustration. I'd really rather take care of the situation in the shower, but I needed my toiletries and clean clothes. "Shit! Shit!" I screamed under my breath, pulling at the unruliness on my head.

Suddenly, inspiration hit. "That's it," I muttered to myself. I quietly cracked open the door. My grand plan was to holler for Emmett. When he came to the door, I would quickly explain my situation and ask him to get my bag for me. I knew he'd likely tease me mercilessly, probably for the next five years, but that was a better alternative to parading my hard-on in front of Charlie and Alice or to getting off in Bella's bed without her.

Just as I opened my mouth to yell his name, I caught a glimpse of something on the floor. Looking down, I saw my duffel bag sitting just outside the door. I chuckled, realizing I'd just put myself through a lot of unnecessary angst.

Scooping up the bag, I held it in front of my tented jeans and scurried off to the bathroom. In record time, I turned on the water, dropped my jeans and boxers, and stepped into the shower. I couldn't hold back the moan that involuntarily escaped my lips when the steaming spray hit my back and my hand wrapped around my throbbing dick. The simultaneous stimulus was nearly too much. Steadying myself, I rested my back against the shower wall. The water pummeled my thighs as I held myself with both hands, squeezing and stroking my engorged length.

Shutting my eyes tightly, I retrieved from my memory one of the hottest sexual experiences of my life. At the Tower of London, semi-hidden in a restricted area, Bella's lips wrapped around me, her eyes locked with mine as she gave me the best head I'd ever experienced. I quickened the pace—up, down, up, down—while visualizing Bella's luscious mouth squeezing my cock. As my thumb swirled around the engorged tip, I imagined it was Bella's tongue. I groaned my pleasure as the erotic pressure increased. I remembered how Bella had ignored my warning, keeping her lips around me like a vice when swallowing my release. I hadn't expected it, and I wouldn't have minded if she'd preferred not to swallow. But _goddamn_—having a woman want all of you, every last drop of you—was sexy as fuck!

I was vaguely aware that my breathing was now labored and loud—I was close, so close. I pictured how Bella looked as I'd exploded into her mouth, the way the muscles in her neck contracted as she'd eagerly swallowed me down. "Ohh, fuck, _fuck_ . . . ungh." I bit my lip, trying to stifle my moans, as I came so fucking hard, spilling onto the shower floor. Panting like a dog, I dropped my hands limply, leaning my head against the shower wall. As my thundering heartbeat slowed, I picked up the shampoo and stepped under the shower head with a giddy smile on my face.

* * *

Smelling of soap, clean-shaven, dressed, and happily limp-dicked, I made my way back to Bella's room. Quickly making up the bed, I sat down on it while I put on my socks and black boots. As I tied the laces, my eyes roamed, and I smiled when I spotted Bella's iPod plugged into the computer. With an idea forming, I crossed the room and unplugged the iPod, shoving it into my back pocket. I retrieved a book from my duffel bag and then opened the door, my stomach growling as I walked down the hallway into the living room.

"Well, perfect timing, Edward," Alice said cheerfully. "Emmett was just getting ready to go find you. Pizza just arrived." She motioned to two pizza boxes on the coffee table.

I rubbed my stomach. "Mmm, I'm starving."

"How'd you sleep, Edward?" Charlie sat on the white leather sofa, leaning back comfortably with a beer bottle in his hand.

"Surprisingly well, sir, thank you." I took a seat next to him, setting the book on the sofa next to me. "And you?" I asked, turning to him.

"Well, I usually don't sleep so good away from home, but that guest bedroom has the most comfortable mattress I've ever come across. I slept like a baby." He chuckled, taking a drink from his bottle.

"Beer, Edward?" Alice stood, walking toward what I assumed was the kitchen.

"Absolutely!" I said, probably a bit too enthusiastically.

Alice returned quickly, handing me an ice cold Heineken. I thanked her before quickly taking a generous swig, followed by wolfing down a slice of pizza.

"Thank you, Alice. This is the best food I've had in way too long," I said, reaching for another slice.

"What!" Emmett said dramatically. "You haven't been enjoying the culinary cuisine provided by the hospital cafeteria?"

With my mouth full of pizza, I smirked, rolling my eyes at him. As I did, I noticed for the first time that Alice's hand was engulfed by his, resting on his leg. My smirk morphed into a genuine smile. Alice and Emmett were both highly-energetic, regularly witty, very outgoing, and both had big hearts. They deserved each other.

* * *

I was beyond anxious to get back to the hospital. We'd been gone much longer than I'd anticipated—about six hours. Knowing that Renee, Phil, Angela, and Jasper were with Bella didn't help. I mean, I was glad that she wasn't alone, but that knowledge didn't quell the ache in my chest. Only her presence could do that. So, I was very happy that Charlie and I got to go see her as soon as we returned. Renee told us that Bella had slept most of the afternoon. I was glad to hear it; maybe that meant she'd be awake during my turn with her.

As Charlie and I quietly entered her room, my heart dropped—she was still asleep. Charlie went to one side of the bed while I walked to the other side. I kept the book in my hand behind my back as I leaned over, resting my free arm on the bed railing. I leaned in close and stared at her exquisite face, just taking in her presence.

Within seconds, her eyes opened abruptly. "Bella," I said softly, smiling. And she smiled back at me. Well, not really. She had a tube coming out of her mouth, which made smiling a little difficult, I would imagine. But I knew she was smiling; it was in her eyes.

"Well, Princess Isabella has decided to join us," Charlie said good-naturedly. She slowly turned her head toward him.

He smiled like only a father can when looking at his little girl. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. "Are you in any pain, Bella?"

Her head moved ever so slightly from left to right.

"Good, glad to hear it. The doctor said he hopes to remove your breathing tube within the next day or two."

I had planned on asking about that very thing today. I hoped it was within a day, rather than two. Charlie smiled, stroking her hair. "I can't wait to hear your voice again, Princess."

I remained quiet, appreciating the love between a father and daughter but feeling a little out of place like I was intruding. I stepped back slightly, shoving my free hand in my pocket, still keeping the book behind my back.

Just then Bella moved her head back toward me, her glistening doe-eyes locked with mine. I held her penetrating gaze, analyzing the emotion reflected there, but I couldn't quite define what she was feeling or thinking. All I knew for sure was that the energy flowing between us was powerful and intense, like it had always been. I gritted my teeth, frustrated that her thoughts were forced silent as long as that goddamn tube was down her throat.

She held her hand up, just a few inches off the bed. I looked at her hand suspended in the air, wondering what she was doing. But as soon as I looked up at her face again, I knew. I turned, pulling a chair nearer to the bed and sat. Immediately, I slipped my hand into hers, which was now resting at her side. I squeezed it gently, rubbing circles on her skin with my thumb.

"Bella? Would you like me to read to you?" I asked quietly.

She was motionless for a minute but then slowly nodded her head.

"Will this old thing do?" I grinned, holding up the hardbound copy of _Pride and Prejudice_ that she had bought in England and given to me. Well, she hadn't physically given it to me. She'd had Emmett bring it to me after she'd walked out on me. I quickly shook that black day from my wandering thoughts, which was easy to do once her face lit up. Her eyes widened as she looked at the book, and the corners of her mouth turned upward just a bit.

"Yes, I thought you might approve," I teased, still grinning. I carefully turned the fragile, yellowed pages of the Austen classic with one hand, unwilling to let go of Bella's hand. It was sheer luck that I'd even brought it with me. I hadn't been in my right mind when I'd frantically packed, but when I'd reached for my watch on my nightstand, the book was right beside it. Without thinking why, I'd instinctively grabbed it and stuffed it into my bag.

When I turned to the beginning chapter, I glanced over at Charlie. "Have you ever read _Pride and Prejudice_, Charlie?" I smirked, already knowing what his answer would be. There was no fucking way that Police Chief Swan had ever read an Austen book. I chuckled inwardly.

Charlie cleared his throat. "Well, uh, no. Can't say that I have."

"Fantastic! Well, you're in for a real treat then," I said, a slight tinge of sarcasm coloring my words. I looked back at Bella, winking at her.

I'd read the book only because I knew how much Bella loved it. Honestly, I couldn't say that I'd loved it, but I hadn't hated it either. That genre wouldn't be my first choice for reading material, but I got why Bella appreciated it. And if it brought Bella even a little bit of comfort, I'd happily read the entire book again . . . aloud . . . to her and for her.

I squeezed Bella's hand again as I began. "'It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife.'"


	26. A Symphony in the Making

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. **

**A/N: Pickwicksociety, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180 catch my goofs and make me look good. I HEART you all for your efforts and your support.**

* * *

_**Chapter 26 – A Symphony in the Making**_

**~*~ **_**Edward**_** ~*~**

I looked at my watch again. Groaning, I rested my arms on my knees while my fingers nervously twisted in my hair. The damn clock hand hadn't appeared to move at all.

"Yeah, Edward, it's about the same time it was when you looked thirty seconds ago." Emmett's sarcasm was so damned annoying sometimes–like right now.

"Shut up, fucker," I mumbled. I rose from the chair, beginning another round of pacing across the room. It seemed to be the only thing that helped release some of my nervous energy.

"Dude, what's got you so jacked up?" Emmett stepped in front of me. "You know Bella's gonna be okay. I mean, she's getting the breathing tube out right now, so that means she's getting better." He looked at me questioningly.

"That's not it, Em." I turned away from his scrutinizing stare, stilling my restless hands by stuffing them in my jeans' pockets. "I know she's going to be fine."

"Then what the hell is up your–" He stopped mid-sentence, sidestepping me until we faced each other again. "You're still not convinced that anything has changed for her," he said softly. "You're worried about your first conversation with her?"

"Something like that," I muttered, glancing at Alice to make sure she wasn't listening. Curled up in a chair across the room, she was still lost in the pages of a book.

Nobody else was around. Angela and Jasper had to go back to work today, but they said they'd drop by this evening. Charlie and Renee were in with Bella while the doctor removed the breathing tube and examined her.

"Dude, c'mon!" Emmett chided, rolling his eyes. "Your name was the last thing she said before passing out. That has _got_ to mean something."

"Maybe." I shrugged, staring at the ground. "But not necessarily. I just–" I sighed, squeezing the bridge of my nose between my fingers, frustrated with trying to articulate the conundrum of emotions I felt. "I'm about to have a conversation that will affect my entire life, that will determine its course. And everything is up to Bella–I have no control." I chuckled sardonically, rubbing the back of my neck. "So, yeah, it's fucking unsettling."

Emmett nodded, crossing his arms. "I get it, man." He leaned in close, just inches from my face, and whispered, "Alice had all the control, too. It nearly fucking killed me, waiting and wondering if she would ever break up with him or not."

Stepping back, he looked at me, speaking in a low tone. "I thought I'd never have her, but now I do, and you'll have Bella, too. There's not a doubt in my mind that it's going to go your way."

"Thanks, Em." I affectionately patted his shoulder as I walked by him, effectively ending the conversation. Though I appreciated his efforts to calm my nerves, I just couldn't help but be nervous no matter how certain he was about Bella and me. I wanted her back so fucking badly that until I knew for certain that she felt the same, I would fucking worry. That's just how I roll.

Hunkering down in a chair in the corner, I leaned my head against the wall and shut my eyes. For the first time since I'd arrived in Phoenix, I wasn't tired, but closing my eyes allowed me to lose myself in images of Bella.

Her gaze had never left me the entire time I'd read _Pride and Prejudice_ to her last night. Each time I'd glanced away from the book, she was looking at me, seemingly hanging on to each and every word I read. I knew it was one of her favorite books, but clearly I'd underestimated how much she adored it. All too soon, my time with her had ended, and I'd been forced to leave so that somebody else could be with her. I never got the chance to play her iPod for her, so I hoped to be able to do that today. Mostly, I hoped that when I played a couple of specific songs for her, she'd welcome the memories.

**~*~ **_**Bella**_** ~*~**

"Take another deep breath, Isabella."

Following the doctor's instructions, I inhaled, blowing out the air as I looked at my mom and dad. They stood in the back of the room, vigilantly observing the doctor listening to my lungs after having removed my breathing tube. Their eyes were wide with worry; Dad was nervously twisting his moustache while Mom picked at her fingernails.

"That's good. Now one more—inhale as deeply as you can," Dr. Tassett said, moving the stethoscope higher on my chest.

I did as he asked, my lungs feeling a bit tight with each breath. I smiled reassuringly at my parents, hating that I'd put them through so much worry.

The silver-haired doctor removed the stethoscope from his ears, stuffing it in the large pocket of his white lab coat. "Your lung function looks really good, Isabella, but you still have a long way to go in recovering. You need to listen to your body, and rest when it tells you to, okay?"

I nodded silently, my throat slightly sore and dry.

"Now that you're off the ventilator, I'm going to put in the order to move you out of the ICU."

Dr. Tassett turned to my parents, probably in an effort to include them. "Though, it'll probably be a few hours before she's moved to a new room."

He backed toward the door, resting his hand on the doorknob. "Any questions?"

"Uh, yes, actually. When do you think she'll be able to come home?" Renee asked. Yeah, good question, Mom. I'd quite like to know that myself.

"That's hard to say, but based on the severity of her injury, I'd guess we'll need to keep her another week."

"A week?" I shouted, only it didn't come out that way. It was more of an embarrassingly croaky whisper.

"Yes, Isabella. I know that seems like a long time, but you not only experienced major trauma to your body from the gunshot, but you also underwent a very intrusive operation. Keeping you here ensures that you'll get the rest you need, and it also allows us to keep watch for any possible complications."

My face contorted at the word "complications."

Dr. Tassett smiled warmly. "Don't worry yourself. Complications are possible but unlikely. And if they should arise, we can take care of them quickly. You're going to be just fine, Isabella."

With that, the doctor opened the door, explaining that he had rounds to finish and wished us all a good day.

"Thank you, Doctor," Charlie said, walking over to my side.

Dr. Tassett breezed out of the room, his white lab coat whirling behind him. Charlie took my hand in his, smiling, as he reached out and gently caressed my cheek. My peripheral vision registered that Renee now stood on the other side of my bed, but I was lost in my father's tear-filled eyes. Or maybe I was found—because I was utterly hypnotized by the love I saw radiating from him.

I always knew my dad loved me; I'm his daughter—of course, he does. But until now, I don't think I'd ever really felt it, not deep in my soul like I did in this moment.

Without the hum of the ventilator, the room was oddly tranquil now. "Daddy—" I managed to squeak out.

Charlie kissed my forehead. "Yes, Bella?"

"I love you."

Charlie's mouth twisted, his eyes glimmering. Lifting my hand to his mouth, he kissed it gently. "I love you, too, my sweet girl."

"Seth?" I muttered warily.

Soon after waking up, I'd managed to communicate that I wanted some paper and pen. I'd shakily scrawled Seth's name, desperately needing to know if he was okay. Dad had told me that Seth was arrested, but that's all I knew. Since then, all my waking thoughts (and many of my dreams) had been focused on both Seth and Edward.

"I told you, honey, he's in jail. That's all we know." Charlie's eyes narrowed, his tone now somber.

"You haven't been to see him?"

"No, absolutely not. I wasn't about to leave you to go see him. He caused this, Bella."

Renee reached for my other hand, squeezing it. "Now that we know you're going to be okay, I'll go visit him if you'd like, honey."

"Yes, please," I whispered.

While images of Seth's tortured face after I'd been shot haunted me, contradictory feelings about what had happened wreaked havoc on my emotional state. I was so fucking angry with Seth. What the hell was he thinking, breaking into my home? How could he betray me like that? How could he steal from his sister, from _me_—the one who'd always cared for him and watched out for him? Yet, as devastatingly hurt as I was, the older, protective sister in me still felt the need to check on him, to know that he was okay. That's fucked up! What I should do is tell him to go to hell.

We sat in heavy silence, Seth's name like a gaseous vapor sucking the oxygen out of the room. As usual, Charlie eventually spoke up, breaking through the melancholy atmosphere. "And here I'd always thought you didn't like attention, Bella, but then you go and get yourself shot. Now you have a waiting room full of people wanting to see you."

Now that's the dad I knew and loved. Charlie and sarcasm were well acquainted, having been friends for his entire life, I believe. I giggled softly, rolling my eyes at him.

"Who should I send in to see you first, Bella?" Charlie withdrew his hand from mine and crossed his arms smugly, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. Just how much did he know about Edward, I wondered.

"I want to see Edward first . . . alone," I admitted, smiling shyly. "But um—" I turned my gaze to Renee. "Mom, could you maybe help me brush my teeth first? And my hair, too?"

I didn't need to look in a mirror to know that my hair would make a very fine bird's nest; I could feel the knots and snarls as I tried to run my hands through it. And my mouth? Oh, my hell! If my hair was a nest, then surely the birds had shit in my mouth. It certainly felt like it, and it probably smelled like it, too. There was no way I was going to breathe my birdshit breath on the Greek god known as Edward Cullen.

"Oh, sure, honey. I have a brush in my purse, but I'm not sure what to do about a toothbrush," she muttered cheerfully, rummaging through her purse.

"Check the gift shop, Renee," Charlie advised.

"Oh, yes, they probably have some there." She closed her purse, slinging it back onto her shoulder. "Okay, then, I'll be back right back."

* * *

I'd just seen Edward last night, but he nearly took my breath away when he stepped through the door, his gait slow and guarded. Sweet Jesus, he's gorgeous.

"Good morning." He smiled down at me, one arm resting on the bedrail.

"I can't believe you're here," I began, my voice raspy and small from the effects of the breathing tube. "When I first woke up and saw you, I thought I was dreaming or maybe even hallucinating."

"I'm definitely here, Bella. I was on the first plane out after I heard."

"Really?" I'd had no idea how long he'd been here when I'd woken up. Knowing he'd come so quickly was just what I needed to hear, giving me the courage I needed to have this conversation.

He smiled and nodded, his gaze darting away from me, almost bashfully.

"But . . . I just can't believe you came all this way after I—" Damn, this was hard. Saying aloud what I'd done, how I'd hurt him was rather uncomfortable. Though I knew that leaving him was the catalyst in getting the therapy I needed, the fact that my actions had caused Edward substantial pain killed me. "I thought you might hate me, that you might never be able to forgive me. What I did, well . . . _how_ I left you was horrible."

"Hate you?" He sputtered, his brows furrowed. "No, Bella, I could never hate you. I mean, I was upset—_really _upset—but I understood. There's nothing to forgive. Being with me . . . well, it's not really fair to you. I've said that from the beginning."

"Thank you," I said, my voice small as I tried to hold back tears. "And, um, the answer is no."

"Excuse me?"

"You asked if you could be my friend."

"When did I—" Edward's mouth hung open, mid-sentence. "Wait . . . you heard that?"

I nodded.

"But you were unconscious."

"Yes." I nodded again, smiling.

Edward's eyes flew wide open, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. He looked positively terrified. My god, what else had he said to me while I was unconscious?

"Wow. Um—" He twisted his fingers in his messy hair, clearly uncomfortable. It was even longer than I remembered; he definitely hadn't had a haircut since I saw him last. Slightly wavy, a long lock fell across his eye as he looked down, and I felt a compelling desire to brush it to the side.

"What else did you hear?" He looked up, meeting my eyes with apprehension in his deep, silky voice. Damn, he's so freakin' adorable when he's shy.

"That's all I remember." Based on his curious reaction, I was regretful that I hadn't heard more.

He nodded, acknowledging my reply. "So, no? We can't be friends?"

I shook my head slowly. "No, because that would be sweet torture—simply unbearable."

Edward stared at me blankly. Oh, what the hell was wrong with me, toying with this sweet man? I decided to end my cryptically coy babbling and just lay it all out there.

"Because I want more than your friendship, Edward. I want all of you . . . for however long I can have you."

"You do? But what about—"

"Come here." I held out my hand until he took it in his. He leaned down, hovering over me protectively.

"I . . . I can't believe I'm going to say this, but I'm going to go out on a limb here and assume that you being here means that you still have some sort of feelings for me. Having come so close to not even being here . . . well, I realize I can't assume that I have all the time in the world to tell you. Life is fragile."

I closed my eyes, taking what was supposed to be a calming breath. Edward squeezed my hand reassuringly, so I opened my eyes and bravely looked into his. "I'm . . . _so_ much in love with you, Edward Cullen. I loved you in London when I walked out that door, leaving you behind. I think maybe I even loved you in Paris."

Edward gasped, surprise etched across his stunning face. I stared at him, both of us frozen in place, my heart pattering rapidly as I tried to gauge his reaction. His shock quickly changed to something else, but I couldn't place the emotion. I swallowed thickly, my mouth suddenly parched. Well, I'd already stripped myself emotionally bare to him, so I might as well finish it.

"Edward, if you'll let me, I will spend every minute of every day showing you just how much I adore you and how sorry I am for leaving you that day. It wasn't that I didn't want you. I just wanted you too damn much." His impassive face began to blur, clouded by the tears pooling in my eyes. "I was terrified that I'd lose you in Iraq—I panicked.

"I was going to call you that night, to beg you to take me back. I was waiting for Alice to get home so I could get your phone number from her. I was in my room when I heard something, so I went out to the living room, thinking Alice was home. But it wasn't her. It wasn't Alice, Edward, it was—"

I gasped, my lungs tight as I wept, a familiar terror settling upon me. Where the hell was this coming from? This was supposed to be a beautiful, sweet moment with Edward, but I couldn't stop talking or crying . . . or remembering. "It was . . . a man, a strange man." I breathed in deeply, sobbing now. "I was so scared, Edward." My eyes involuntarily scrunched shut as I cried.

Warm hands cradled my face. "Shh, it's okay. You're safe now." I felt featherlike kisses on my eyelids, my forehead, and then my cheeks. As Edward's lips danced across my face, my frantic breathing slowed.

"Don't think about that," he urged, his voice soft and soothing. "Bella, look at me."

I opened my eyes. Edward was leaning across the bed, his forearms resting on each side of me, his hands behind my head. I held his tender gaze as he gently dried my damp cheeks with his thumbs.

"I love you back, Bella. You are my life now—you're everything." Slowly, he leaned closer, his lips gently brushing against mine.

"You love me?" I sniffed, awestruck.

He flashed me a thousand-watt smile. "Of course, I love you," he answered, pressing another chaste kiss to my lips. "How could I not? I adore you," he whispered against my mouth.

I was spell-bound, enraptured with his words, his smell, and his warm breath on my skin. He tilted his head back, just enough to look into my eyes. "I'm mad about you." Then his lips were on mine again, now firm and unyielding. I lifted my hands—one of them heavy with an I.V. tube—and knit them through his disheveled hair, moaning softly at the sensation. Just as I parted my lips, sweeping my tongue across his plump lower lip, he broke away.

"Bella," he panted, his forehead resting gently against mine. "You mustn't exert yourself."

Pulling back, his crooked grin teased me as he extricated my hands from his hair and stood up. He reached around, pulling something out of his back pocket. "I borrowed your iPod," he said, dangling it between his fingers. "I want to play something for you."

"Okay, sure."

He gave me one earbud while placing the other one in his ear. "Tell me what comes to mind when you hear this."

I knew the song after just the first bar. I'd played it for Edward that horrible and wonderful night when he'd had a flashback or something, suddenly morphing into Mr. Hyde. I had been trying to get him to laugh, telling him it sounded like they were singing the word "douche" instead of "deuce." Instead of inciting levity, Mr. Hyde had transformed into some kind of dominant sex god.

We smiled goofily at each other, singing along with the douchey chorus. When it ended, Edward raised an eyebrow. "Well?"

I giggled, my face instantly heated. "Um, let's just say that I'm looking forward to a repeat of that night."

"I can't tell you how glad I am to hear you say that. I think the details of that night are seared into my memory forever." Edward chuckled, his thumb scrolling through the playlist. "Okay, here's another one."

James Blunt's voice wafted through the earbuds, singing about the beautiful woman he saw on a train. I smiled, looking into Edward's emerald eyes as I remembered gazing into them while waltzing together in the ballroom in Bath. He'd serenaded me, singing the words of "You're Beautiful" as he twirled me around the elegant room.

When the last note ended, Edward gently pulled my earbud out. "Well?"

"You go first this time."

"You're still beautiful, more beautiful than I'd remembered."

My cheeks flushed again, and I smiled, glancing away bashfully. I both hated and loved hearing him tell me that I'm beautiful. Before I could muster up a thank you, he began to sing:

"_You're beautiful. You're beautiful.  
You're beautiful, it's true.  
I saw your face in a crowded place,  
And I don't know what to do,  
'Cause I have to be with you."_

Edward leaned over, ever so slowly closing the gap between us until our lips met, kissing tenderly. "Poor James Blunt couldn't have his beautiful train girl. I'm a lucky bastard, getting to have mine. My beautiful Bella."

I think my insides turned to gelatin in that moment, scorched and liquefied by Edward Cullen's romantic sweetness. I was warm and tingly as I swam in the love I could see reflected in his eyes.

"My beautiful Edward," I whispered, stroking his chiseled cheekbone.

Edward snorted, dropping his head down as he cringed. "Bella, Bella, I told you before—men are _not_ beautiful."

"Usually, that's true, but you're an exception to the rule."

"How about handsome instead?"

"Oh, yes, definitely handsome, but lots of men are handsome. _You_ . . . are fucking beautiful."

Edward doubled over laughing, resting his arms on the bedrail and hanging his head over my body. "Damn, woman! If you're going to pull out the F bomb, I guess I won't argue the point."

"Very smart, my beautiful man," I purred, grinning triumphantly.

**~*~ **_**Edward**_** ~*~**

I would have to admit to Emmett that he was right, and I was wrong. I'd never been happier about being wrong. Bella not only wanted me here, but she wanted me back in her life. She'd said that she loved me—I just couldn't believe it. Really, I was fucking stunned because all I'd dared hope for was that maybe she'd changed her mind about dating me. I hadn't even entertained the idea of her being in love with me. In fact, while pacing in the waiting room, I'd decided that if she took me back, I would need to keep my recent epiphany to myself for a while, figuring that I'd scare her off if I said the L word. Talk about going from the lowest of lows to the highest of highs—_fuck_!

As I stroked her hands in mine, I was nearly euphoric, happier than I'd ever been. "Now I'm the one feeling like I'm dreaming or hallucinating."

"Why is that?"

"Bella, when I first saw you when I got here—" I hung my head and cleared my throat, remembering the terror I'd felt.

"You were unconscious and hooked up to all kinds of machines," I mumbled, staring at our linked hands. "The doctors could not reassure us that you'd be okay." Looking up at her, I finally answered the question. "I went from thinking I might lose you forever to hearing you say that you want me . . . forever." I laughed, my giddiness bursting out. "It's fucking surreal."

"I know the feeling. I went from worrying that I'd never see you again, that you would be angry with me when I called you . . . to waking up in this bed with you holding my hand."

"Where else would I be?" I leaned down, kissing each one of her soft, feminine fingers. She smiled, her cheeks blushing and her eyelids fluttering shut before she forced them open again.

"You're tired. It's okay—close your eyes."

"No, I don't want to leave you." Her heavy eyelids closed, opened, closed, and then opened again. She was fighting it.

"I'll be right here when you wake up." I stood and leaned over the bed, my face a breath away from hers. "You need to rest so you can get better and come home." I pressed a gentle kiss to her lips. "Sleep."

With her eyes closed, Bella mumbled, "Love you."

I smiled, reveling in the sound of those amazing words. "I love you back . . . so much."

* * *

The past couple of days had been reminiscent of old times with the four of us sitting around, talking and laughing together like we had so many times in Europe. The only difference was Bella was now in a hospital bed, and she tired quickly, often holding her chest with a grimace whenever she laughed too hard.

Being in a private room now, Bella was no longer restricted to two visitors at a time. Often Charlie and Renee were in the mix, but sometimes they'd leave to pick up lunch or Renee would be gone running errands. Phil was busy with spring training, preparing for baseball season. Jasper and Angela came by every evening for an hour or so to see Bella. I liked them both quite a bit. How could I not when their loyalty and love for Bella was so apparent?

"So I was thinking—" I paused dramatically, eliciting everyone's attention.

Sharing the only other chair in the room, Alice sat perched on Emmett's knees. They both looked at me expectantly, as did Bella.

"Ahh, such a rarity." Emmett snickered, winking at Bella. She smiled, shaking her head at his teasing jab.

"Yeah, well, all the more reason you should pay attention. I noticed last night that Angela and Jasper seemed kind of . . . um, chummy? They seem to get along pretty well. Maybe you could play matchmaker, Bella."

"That's brilliant, except that Angela recently started dating a guy she works with. It's been kind of a hot and cold thing for a while, but I guess now it's mostly hot. She talked about Ben nearly the whole time she was here." Bella giggled, rolling her eyes. "She's so in love—it's adorable."

"Sounds like somebody else I know." Alice arched an eyebrow at Bella, pursing her lips.

Bella grinned at her. "Ditto, sister."

Alice's eyes widened. I never thought I'd see it on the pixie's face, but she fucking blushed. Tough as nails, foul-mouthed, sarcastic Alice turned the same shade as Emmett's red t-shirt. Seeing her clearly unnerved, he chuckled softly, gently rubbing her back as he pressed a kiss to her temple.

Charlie breezed through the door, saving Alice from herself. "It's chow time," he announced, depositing several take-out bags on the table at the end of Bella's bed.

"Thank you so much for getting lunch, Charlie. Did you find it all right?" Alice hopped off of Emmett's lap, opening the bags to help distribute the food.

"Yep, no problem at all. Did me good to get some fresh air."

We all muttered our thanks to Charlie while I rolled the table over until it was situated over Bella. Unwrapping a sandwich, I set it on the paper in front of her. "There you go, beautiful."

"Thanks," she said, scooping it up and taking a big bite. "Mmm, it's so good. I love gyros."

"I'm glad to see your appetite is back, honey." Charlie chuckled.

"So, Dad, I was wondering—how long will you be able to stay?"

"Until after your graduation."

"Really? That's fantastic!" Bella smiled, but it quickly faded, her eyes narrowing. "But what about work?"

"It's not a problem, honey. Since I rarely take a vacation, I have several weeks of paid time off. I was planning to come out for your graduation anyway, so there's no point in leaving and then coming back again a week later. That is if I can impose on Alice for a while longer?" He glanced at Alice, his question hanging in the air.

"Oh, puh-lease, Charlie," Alice said with loving sarcasm. "Our home is your home."

"Yay!" Bella clapped her hands, her eyes bright with happiness. Catching her gaze, I smiled, happy to see her so alive and vibrant, but again, her joy quickly evaporated.

"Um, so . . . will you both be here for mine and Alice's graduation?" She glanced at Emmett and then back at me. "I mean, it's still a couple of weeks away. You probably need to get back to Seattle before then, right?"

She pulled at her lower lip with her teeth, looking apprehensive. Did she really think I might leave? Had I not made it clear how I felt about her, that she was everything to me? Where else would I be? But I didn't feel comfortable saying all of that, not in front of the audience we had.

"Of course, I'll be here," I said, my solemn tone attempting to convey how serious I was about her.

"Woot-woot!" Emmett pumped his fist in the air. "Sounds like a party then 'cause I'm not going anywhere either."

**~*~ **_**Bella**_** ~*~**

I wasn't quite sure why I was so surprised that Edward was staying in Phoenix for so long, clear up until my graduation at least. His feelings for me hadn't changed during the time we'd been broken up, and he'd told me he was in love with me, too. Yet, I was reticent to assume anything more.

In London, before I'd left him holding his battered heart in that hotel room, he'd said that he wanted to move to Phoenix to be with me before he had to report for duty. But I couldn't assume that he was still willing to do that, to leave his family earlier than necessary, to invest so much in our relationship by moving to another state. Yes, he still had feelings for me—thank you, baby Jesus, for that—but I worried that the hurt I'd inflicted on him might have caused him to be more cautious in our relationship. Moving to Phoenix could very well be off the table now; I just wasn't sure, and we didn't get a lot of alone time in the hospital to talk about such things. Certainly, we'd talk about it at some point, but for now, I was deliriously happy to be alive, to have Edward back in my life, and to be graduating from college soon with all the people I loved around me.

After eating lunch, Edward had whispered conspiratorially in the corner with Alice. She'd handed him her keys, after which he crossed the room to my bed. He'd kissed me, telling me that he needed to run an errand and would be back soon. I couldn't imagine what sort of errand he'd need to do in a city he didn't even live in, but I didn't question him. He had a certain mysterious glint in his eye, and I had a gut feeling he wouldn't have told me had I asked. So I'd just smiled and told him to hurry back.

With a full stomach and my Edward gone, I'd quickly drifted away, enjoying a much needed nap. I'd been sleeping nearly as much as a newborn, which I hated because I felt like I was missing out on all the fun with my friends and family. But my doctor told me that copious amounts of sleep were normal and necessary for my traumatized body to heal its wounds.

"How long have you been awake?" Alice asked, walking in with a book in her hand.

"Um, I'm not sure. Maybe ten minutes?"

"Oh, good. I'm glad you weren't alone for long."

I snorted. "I can be alone, Al. I'm fine."

She plopped into a chair, resting her legs on the lower railing of the bed. "Nobody should be alone in a hospital room."

"Is Edward back yet?"

"I don't think so. I haven't seen him."

"Did he say where he was going?"

"You've been awake all of ten minutes, and you're already jonesing for him?" Alice grinned, her eyes mocking me.

"That's right, and I make no apologies for it. I'm 100% under Edward Cullen's spell," I said dramatically, smiling.

Alice giggled. "I'm so damn happy for you."

"Ditto."

Alice bounced in her chair, her fists clenched and her face beaming. "I know, right?"

"So, is Em everything you thought he would be? I mean, there was a lot of anticipation and built up . . . um, tension."

"Bella, breaking Jasper's heart was the hardest thing I've ever done. Ever! But I'm so glad I found the strength to do it because what I feel with Emmett—" She shook her head, smiling demurely. "There are no words."

"My Alice has no words? Holy hell, it must be love."

"Well, I can't speak for him, but for me . . . yeah, I think it just might be love."

"So there has been no L word exchange?"

"Oh, god, no—I think it's too soon for that. I mean, I feel it, but it's another thing entirely to say it. And I'm sort of worried about the whole rebound thing, you know? It's only been a few weeks since Jasper and I broke up."

"I think that's smart. Just take it slowly. Emmett is such a good guy, though. I think you two will be fine."

The door cracked open, and we both glanced over to see Edward sticking his gorgeous head into the room.

Alice jumped up immediately. "That's my cue." She kissed my forehead, saying she was going to go find Emmett and darted out of the room before I could say a word.

Edward came in carrying a guitar case, a smirk on his beautiful face as he held my gaze.

"You sure know how to clear a room," I teased.

"Yep, all I had to do was ask."

"What do you mean?"

"I asked everyone to disappear for a while." He set the guitar case on the floor before leaning over me, his arms resting on the bed so that I was caged in. "Were you able to get a nap while I was gone?"

I nodded, suddenly speechless as he hypnotized me with his close proximity. He hadn't shaved this morning, which I greatly appreciated as I stared at the brown and blonde whiskers framing his ridiculously red lips. My eyes darted down to the light sprinkling of chest hair on display, thanks to his white v-neck t-shirt. And then I noticed how his biceps rippled beneath his short sleeves, his arms holding some of his weight as he peered over me.

"I missed you," I whispered, not realizing I'd lustily licked my lips until after I'd already done so.

Edward gave me a half-smile, leaning in and nestling his nose against mine. "Mmm, I missed you more."

"Show me."

His lips found mine, so soft yet firm and demanding. All of our kisses the past couple of days had been quick and innocent. Edward was overly concerned about possibly hurting me or causing overexertion; plus we'd had very little time alone. But this kiss was not quick or innocent—it was searing hot in its need and emotion. When his lips parted, I responded eagerly, sucking gently on his lower lip. The velvet of his lip combined with the coarseness of his whiskers against my tongue ignited my desire, and I whimpered. Opening his mouth fully, his tongue found mine, warm and moist and titillating. He kissed me hard, passion and love flowing between us.

"Oh, Bella," Edward whispered, panting as he pulled away. "Fuck. I'm sorry, baby."

I giggled. "Please don't apologize—I'm fine."

He smirked, glancing down at a very impressive erection pressing against his jeans. "Well, I'm not."

"Oopsie." My hand flew to my mouth, stifling a giggle. Though I felt badly about his obvious discomfort, my heart soared at the evidence that he still desired me, that I still had that effect on him.

"Yeah." He rolled his eyes, sighing. "I need a distraction." Opening the guitar case, he lifted up an acoustic guitar.

"Where did you get that?"

"At the store," he replied, placing the guitar strap around his neck and settling into a chair.

"Uh, you mean you bought it? Just now?"

He nodded, smiling mischievously. "I wrote something for you."

My mouth fell open. Did I hear what I thought I heard? "You . . . you—" My mouth wasn't working properly. "Um, you wrote a song for me?"

He nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I did."

"But when? When did you have time to . . . I don't understand."

"I wrote it when I came back from London, over the past several weeks. I've had nothing but time to think and to write. Composing is kind of therapeutic for me. It helped me to feel closer to you."

My eyes welled up, and my hands flew to my face, trying to mask my emotion. Oh, god, I'd hurt him so much. "Shit. I'm so, so sorry, Edward."

"Don't be sorry, baby. Everything that's happened brought us to this moment . . . together. There's just a small part of the song that's melancholy. The majority of the melody is love and happiness. It's our story."

His fingers began plucking the strings, the combined chords creating a sort of sultry rhythm. I was rapt, in awe of his talent and the fact that this was all for me. My gaze darted back and forth from his beautiful hands that strummed my song to his ethereally handsome face that reflected on our story. The melody transitioned into a more upbeat sound, Edward's long fingers moving effortlessly across the fret, and then it eventually morphed into something that conveyed sadness.

When the somber ending came to a close, Edward looked up at me. "That was the ending . . . until a couple of days ago." He paused, his eyes dancing with delight. "Then I discovered the song wasn't finished after all."

Wiping away an escaped tear, I shook my head furiously. "No, it is most definitely not finished, and I hope it never is. It's beautiful, Edward. I loved it."

He smiled as he stood up, carefully setting the guitar on the chair. Leaning on the bedrail, he cradled my hand in his. "Then I'll just have to keep writing, adding to it as we go along. I'm itching to write out the moment when you made me the happiest man on the planet."

"When was that?" I asked quietly, looking up at him through my lashes.

When Edward smirked at me, I knew that _he_ knew I was being coy. Of course, I knew the moment he was talking about, but he humored me anyway. "When you told me you're in love with me," he said softly, almost reverentially. "I already have it written out in my head. It's going to be quite a crescendo."

"A crescendo, huh? That sounds, um . . . alluring." I smiled, biting my lip the way I know he finds to be exactly that—alluring.

Silently, Edward's lithe fingers pulled my lower lip free. Still gently holding it between his fingers, he placed his open mouth on my lip, sucking and licking. "Ohh, hmm," I moaned mindlessly, my mouth parting, submissive to his.

Edward's tongue glided over my lip once more before placing a chaste kiss on my mouth. "I want to have many more crescendos with you," he mumbled throatily against my lips, followed by more kisses.

"Mmm, yes, enough to make a symphony, our symphony," I whispered, laughing softly at my own corniness, but Edward didn't seem to mind it. He smiled, silencing my giggle with another searing kiss.

* * *

**A/N: Holy Moly, what a mountain of syrupy sweet fluff! But, c'mon, these two have been through enough angst for a while, don't ya think? So let's just bask in the love for now. **


	27. Always Been Yours

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. **

**A/N: As ever, my betas, Pickwicksociety, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180, are my rock! **

* * *

_**Chapter 27 – Always Been Yours**_

**~*~ **_**Edward**_** ~*~**

"Of course, I remembered daisies are your favorite. Uh-huh . . . yeah. I'm glad you like them, Mom." I took another drag off my cigarette before snuffing it out. "I'm sorry I can't talk longer, Mom, but I need to get back to Bella. They're going to release her any minute now. Okay, then . . . I love you, too. Happy Mother's Day. Bye."

Flipping my phone closed, I dropped it in my shirt pocket as I hurried toward the patio door. Alice was probably done helping Bella shower by now, and I wanted to get back to her. I bypassed the elevator and took two steps at a time up the glossy gray stairwell to the fourth floor. It was a bit of a workout, which was exactly why I was doing it. Practically living at the hospital for the past nine days, eating shitty food and unable to go to the gym meant that I'd had to find other ways to keep in shape. Life in combat was physically grueling, so I needed to remain in impeccable physical condition. I'd been doing sit-ups and pushups before going to sleep each night, and the hospital stairs had been serving as my cardiovascular workout.

But this would be my last trip up these dreary stairs because Bella was coming home today. _Hal-le-fucking-luiah! _When Dr. Tassett told us Bella would be released from the hospital on Mother's Day, Renee had said it was the greatest gift she could get. Bella had looked over at me, rolling her eyes in response to her mother's syrupy tone, or so I assumed that was the reason for her reaction.

I knew that Bella had issues with her mom, and I really wanted to learn more about that because from everything I'd seen, Renee appeared to be genuine in her concern for Bella. Though, I couldn't argue the fact that Renee was a little "off." She took narcissism to a level I'd never seen before, continually talking about _her_ life, _her_ feelings, and _her_ numerous aches and pains. Many conversations I'd had with her were virtually one-sided. If you did actually manage to contribute a few words to the subject, it was as if she hadn't even heard you. As soon as you'd finish your sentence, she'd be off onto her next tangent. I suppose growing up with a mother like that would give a kid the message that they weren't important or valued. I hated the thought that Bella might have grown up feeling ignored or less than cherished.

Rounding a corner to take the next set of stairs, my heart pounded in my chest, mirroring the fury I felt thinking about Bella's upbringing. If Renee was like she was now, then Bella had been virtually invisible as a child, only to later be abandoned by her ex-husband as an adult. I could barely control my anger at the universe for the fuckery it had subjected Bella to. Though I was devastated when she'd left me in London, I now better understood why she had panicked when she'd found out about my reenlistment.

The week following the big talk, in which we'd confessed our love to each other, had been amazing yet challenging for me. On the one hand, I was happier than I could remember ever being. I was high as a fucking kite on the love I felt for Bella and on her love for me. Having thought that I'd lost her, not once but twice, I relished every minute sitting by her side as she healed. We talked, laughed, played card games, listened to music, watched television, and shot the shit with the continual parade of visitors like Jasper, Angela, and, of course, Alice, Emmett, and Charlie who were at the hospital as much as I was. I'd also played more songs for her on my guitar, and I'd continued reading to her from _Pride and Prejudice. _

However, she was still recovering from a traumatic wound, so she slept a whole fucking lot. Those were the times that were tough because I'm used to being really active, always doing something. Looking at the same white, sterile walls when Bella was sleeping had driven me crazy, but I didn't want to leave and not be around whenever she woke up. Every single night, I dreaded having to leave Bella and go back to her house to sleep. But as of tonight, I wouldn't have to leave her anymore—at least not until July. But I didn't want to think about that now, and Bella must feel the same way because she hadn't mentioned the black cloud of reenlistment hanging over us.

I stopped outside the door of her room, catching my breath for a second. Pushing it open, I heard the unmistakable whine of Renee.

"I think I might have to go down to the ER and have my knee X-rayed. While I'm there they can give me a prescription. I'm certain I have a sinus infection."

The door was cracked open just enough to see Bella sitting on the edge of the bed. She stared out the window, her expression vacant. Alice stood next to her, brushing Bella's damp hair.

"Mom, did you get the flowers?" Bella asked softly.

"Oh, yes, they were delivered this morning before I left the house. Thank you, honey. Anyway, like I said, my knee has been aching for a few days. I don't remember injuring it, but—"

I stepped inside, interrupting Renee's monologue. "So has Dr. Tassett officially released the prisoner?" I called out cheerfully.

When Bella turned and looked at me—_I fucking swear it_—her eyes lit up. That sounds so girly and cliché, but I don't know how else to describe it. The joy and love radiating from her was so intense that it halted me in my tracks. Literally, I stopped halfway across the room and just stood there, gaping at her. I really wished everyone would get the fuck out of the room because I had a powerful urge to wrap her in my arms and kiss the hell out of her.

**~*~ **_**Bella**_** ~*~**

I grinned goofily at Edward, probably looking like a loon, but I couldn't contain the love and energy bubbling inside me. Edward's presence just had that effect on me. He was so good to me, treating me as if I was the most important person on the planet, not to mention he was damn pretty to look at. Even though I was recovering from a terrifying event, I was happy—happier than I'd been in a long time, maybe ever.

Edward stopped suddenly and just looked at me. Like at the train depot when I first saw him, his gaze was penetrating. I felt that same current flowing between us, something that connected me to him. Distracted, it took me a second to register his question and form an answer. "Uh, yeah, the doc signed the papers. We're just waiting for the nurse to come with a wheelchair."

"I'm going to see what's keeping the nurse," Renee announced, leaving the room.

"Charlie went to get my car and bring it around to the exit doors," Alice added, dropping the brush into her purse and sitting in the chair beside the bed.

Edward continued around the bed, stopping just in front of me, his legs brushing against my knees. He reached out, taking my hands in his. "That's fantastic." He smiled, caressing my hands and brushing a light kiss across my lips. "Where's Em?"

"He'll be right back." I tugged my hands out of Edward's and wrapped my arms tightly around his waist, pressing my cheek against his torso. "He went to the little boys' room."

Alice chortled. "Pfft, that's an oxymoron, Bella—there's nothing little about Emmett."

"Oh, fucking hell, Alice," Edward hissed, his face contorting like he'd sucked on a lemon.

I burst out laughing and pulled away from him, clutching my chest where a rather nasty incision lay hidden. "Oh, god, don't make me laugh, Al."

"Sorry." Alice shrugged, a coy smile on her lips.

I quieted myself quickly, again resting my head on Edward's firm chest. His muscular arms slid around me, and he began tracing symmetrical circles along my back. I sighed, melting into him.

I knew that Emmett was staying at the house, along with Edward and my dad. I also knew that Alice and Emmett were now romantically involved, but I didn't know that they'd gotten to the point that she'd seen his junk. Did that mean they'd done the mattress mambo, I wondered. "Apparently, we're overdue for some girl talk, Alice."

* * *

The rich aroma of parmesan drifted into the living room, making my mouth water and my stomach grumble. I pulled the softer-than-a-baby's-butt blanket higher around my neck, shaking my head as I considered the man that was Edward Cullen—an Ivy League-educated businessman, a highly-trained, combat-experienced Army captain, and now I find out, a master of culinary cuisine. Well, master of Fettuccini Alfredo at least. He'd insisted on cooking dinner for us in honor of my first day home from the hospital.

Maybe it's the one and only dish he knows how to make, I considered cheekily. Nobody should be quite so well-rounded and talented, though it would be nice to not have to prepare all the meals in the future. I enjoyed cooking, but I could appreciate a night or two off once in a while. I halted my meandering thoughts, realizing I was getting ahead of myself because Edward and I hadn't yet talked about the future. I was assuming he'd be around to cook for me, but that was just that—an assumption.

Earlier, with Edward's list of ingredients in hand, Alice and Emmett had made a run to the grocery store. While waiting for them to return, I'd shown my dad and Edward pictures from my travels in Europe. There were quite a few of me and Edward together, and we'd shared a few knowing glances, silently remembering those wonderful memories. When we'd come across the Tower of London pictures, my cheeks had instantly flushed, unable to think about anything except the X-rated escapades we'd indulged in there. I'd inconspicuously glanced up at Edward and was met with that trademark crooked smile of his, and then he'd freakin' winked. Damn him for being so adorable and sexy and making me ache for him, which had been beyond awkward considering my dad had been sitting right next to us.

Giggling at the memory, I buried my face in the blanket. I was supposed to be sleeping, per orders from everyone. Insisting that I get some rest, Dad, Alice, and Emmett had retreated to the kitchen while Edward made dinner, but my empty stomach and now my tingly girly bits were making it difficult to relax. Plus, when they'd first left me alone, I'd had trouble getting that night out of my head.

The last time I'd been in this room was—well, it was _that_ night, the night I'd been shot. After struggling for a good ten minutes to rid my thoughts of those terrifying images, I'd finally been successful when I started thinking about Edward and the Tower of London and his . . . well, like Alice had said about Em—there was nothing little about my Edward. I chuckled softly, remembering Edward's "There is no comparison" line when we'd visited the Statue of David in Florence. Those four words had literally made me wet that day, and now, just remembering it, caused me to squeeze my legs together against the ache that was growing there.

"I know you're awake. What are you doin' under there?" Edward's voice was a playful whisper.

I gasped and yanked the blanket off my face, undoubtedly blushing. I felt like I'd been caught with my hand down my pants or something.

Edward was crouched next to the sofa holding a spoonful of what I assumed was Alfredo sauce. He had one hand under the spoon, presumably to catch drips.

"Um, just daydreaming," I mumbled shyly.

"Uh-huh." He smirked, his tone disbelieving and teasing as he brought the spoon to my lips.

I sat up on my elbows and opened my mouth, eagerly tasting the most deliciously rich Alfredo sauce I'd ever had. "Mmm, oh, my god!" I licked my lips appreciatively. "Oh, god . . . _so_ good."

"Damn, Bella. From the sounds of it, it's orgasmically good."

"Nearly." I giggled, playfully shoving against his chest. That's when I noticed he was wearing the apron that Alice had given me last Christmas.

My eyes widened, and I covered my mouth, chuckling. "And how apropos for you to wear that particular apron while cooking your big O sauce."

Edward looked down and read the words from the apron aloud. "Whip It, Beat It, Pinch It, Squeeze It, and Bite It! I Love Cooking!"

He looked back at me, his eyes aflame with desire. I knew that look—it was his I-Want-To-Devour-You look. "Yes, all very effective in cooking up a climax. And now I'm going back to the kitchen before I have one right here," he said, standing up.

_Oh my fuck. _I couldn't believe he said that, but I freakin' loved that he did. His confidence and ease with his sexuality, not to mention his fondness for dirty talk was the best kind of foreplay for me. My eyes darted downward just as his hand disappeared behind the apron that covered the anatomy I'd just been fantasizing about.

With his eyes still focused on mine, he unashamedly adjusted himself. "Thank god this apron is long because your dad is in the kitchen."

"I'm sorry, baby," I said sincerely, though I couldn't stop smiling, "but don't go yet."

I reached out, taking hold of his soft, warm hand. "You need to explain yourself, Chef Edward. From whence were your culinary skills obtained?" I cooed in my best British accent, trying to be both playful and sexy but probably just sounding like the literary Shakespearean nerd that I am.

"My mom," he said, matter-of-factly, moving to sit on the edge of the sofa beside me. "At first it wasn't because I was particularly interested in cooking—I was young, maybe seven or eight. It was a just a way for me to spend time with her, but as I got older, I became fascinated with the science behind it. Plus, cooking appealed to my artistic side, too. What about you?"

"I can hold my own in the kitchen. When I get my strength back, I'll cook for you."

He smiled slyly, his eyes still smoldering. Silently, he leaned down and kissed me, his lips moving sensuously over mine. Much too quickly, he pulled his delectable lips away. "Will your cooking include pinching, squeezing, and biting?" He grinned, his mouth just a breath away from mine.

"If I'm cooking for you—count on it."

**~*~ **_**Edward**_** ~*~**

"Well, I'm beat." Alice stood up from the couch, stretching her arms over her head.

"Yeah, me, too." Emmett got up, resting his hand on Alice's waist. "Good night, everyone."

"Um, Alice?" I cleared my throat and rubbed the back of my neck, feeling awkward with everyone's eyes on me. "I'm sorry, but before you go, do you have a spare blanket and pillow?"

She squinted at me, looking confused.

"For the couch," I clarified.

"But Edward—" Bella put her hand on my arm. Her eyebrows were furrowed, her eyes questioning. Everyone was awkwardly quiet.

"I'll be sleeping on the couch," I explained, turning my attention back to Alice.

"Oh! Okay, sure. I'll be right back." Alice turned, hurrying out of the room with Emmett behind her.

"Ed_ward_," Bella said, a sharp edge to her tone.

I glanced at Charlie, sitting on the other end of the sectional and quietly staring at me. Okay, this was uncomfortable. I really didn't want to explain to Bella in front of Charlie why I would not be sleeping in her room any longer. Fortunately, after a few seconds that felt like minutes, Charlie graciously saved me from the situation.

"I think I'll turn in as well, kids." He walked over to Bella and leaned down, kissing her forehead. "Good night, Princess."

"Good night, Dad. I'm glad you're here."

He smiled, nodding, and then looked at me. "Edward, thanks again for dinner."

"You're very welcome. Good night."

As Charlie left the room, Alice returned, dropping some bedding on the end of the couch. "There you go." She turned and hurried back out of the room, calling out over her shoulder, "Good night, you two."

Bella hollered good night at the same time that I shouted out, thanking Alice for the bedding. And then—fucking finally—we were alone.

"You are not sleeping on the couch, Edward. What the hell?" Bella whispered angrily at me, her eyes wide and anxious. "I want you with me," she said, her tone more gentle.

"I want to be with you, too, but there is no way I'm sleeping with you when your dad is in the house." I rubbed my hands up and down her legs that were still draped across my lap after the foot massage I'd given her earlier while watching a movie.

"Are you kidding me? Edward, I'm a grown woman. It's not as though he thinks I'm still a virgin. I was married for fuck's sake."

It wasn't a smart thing to do, but I couldn't help it—I laughed. She was just so cute, all riled up and dropping the F word.

"What's so funny?" Bella glared at me, looking legitimately pissed.

"My god, I fucking adore you." I reached out and clasped my hands to her cheeks, pulling her face to mine. I wanted her so damn much that there was no warm-up—I pressed my open mouth to hers. She met my passion with her own raw desire, sucking on my tongue, biting at my lips, and groaning as I kissed her back fiercely, like I wanted to eat her alive—which I really fucking wanted to. My mind wandered to doing just that—between her legs. I knew we had to stop. I pulled my mouth from hers, a small gasp escaping as I sucked in needed air.

"And that's the other reason why I'm sleeping out here—I can't control myself around you." Still cradling her face, I leaned my forehead against hers. "I can't be in bed with you without . . . uh, pinching, squeezing, biting."

We both chuckled at the apron joke, and I pulled away so I could look in her eyes, but I kept my hands on her face, stroking her silky cheek. "It'll be far less torturous for me to sleep on the couch than to be in your bed and not be able to fuck you senseless."

"So fuck me senseless then," she said, low and raspy.

_Fuck_! I dropped my hands from her face and pulled away, groaning. I rested my head against the back of the sofa, covering my face with my hands as I grimaced. "Bel-la, you can _not_ say things like that to me."

"Why not?" she asked coyly, her tone playful and seductive. I'd never seen this side of Bella during the short time we'd spent together in Europe. Though I tended to be a dominant lover, I could allow my woman to take the lead from time to time. After all, no straight, red-blooded male was immune to a sexy woman _asking_ him to fuck her.

"You _know_ why not," I scoffed, irritated that I couldn't allow myself to succumb to her seduction. "You might not care about your recovery, but I do. Your doctor had a reason for telling you to refrain from sex for another week."

"I didn't know you were such a rule follower." Her tone was petulant, but when I looked at her, I could see that the fury had left her eyes.

"Uh, yeah . . . otherwise, I wouldn't be a very good soldier. The military is all about rules and obedience."

"I'm sorry, but you just caught me off guard is all. I've been looking forward to having you all to myself at nighttime at least."

"I know." I reached for her hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "Soon."

Bella scooted to the edge of the couch. "I don't want to leave you, but I am really tired," she said quietly, running her fingers through her hair. "Ugh, with all this lying around 24/7, my hair is in a perpetual state of bed head. It's driving me crazy."

"You should braid it."

"I can't—it hurts when I lift my arms."

"I'll braid it for you then."

Bella's head whipped around, her eyes wide, and her grin even bigger. "_What_? You know how to braid hair?"

I nodded, shrugging bashfully.

"Badass Army combat soldier Edward Cullen knows how to braid hair?"

"Yes, but that's top secret intelligence. If you tell anyone, I'll have to kill you."

"My lips are sealed, as long as you tell me how it is that you acquired said skill."

"Deal. Where's your hair stuff?"

"Bottom left drawer in my bathroom."

I jumped up and headed to the bathroom where I quickly found her comb and a couple of hair watchamacallits. Hell, I don't know what the fuck they call those rubber band things.

Back with Bella, I tossed a pillow on the floor and helped her off the sofa onto the pillow. I sat down on the couch behind her so that she was between my legs. "Tell me if it hurts," I said, trying to work the comb through a snarl in her long hair.

"No worries. I'm thick-headed, didn't you know?"

"No, _**I'm**_ thick-headed, as _you_ well know."

Bella huffed loudly, turning her head and glaring at me. "Unless you're prepared to take it out and refresh my memory, you'd better stop talking like that to me."

"Sorry, sorry," I said, laughing heartily. "But that was too good to pass up."

I continued working the tangles out of her hair. "Okay, new subject then. When my sister and I were in elementary school, my mom always left for work pretty early, so she wasn't around to help Rosalie get ready for school. She was too young to fix her own hair, so I had to help her. Mom even went so far as to teach me how to braid Rosalie's hair because that was her favorite way to wear it at the time."

"You never cease to amaze me with all your many talents."

"Oh, yes, because braiding hair is such an amazing skill to have."

"Well, it sure is coming in handy right now. And it feels _amazing _. . . mmm."

"Uh-uh, don't start with your sexy sounds again."

She giggled. "Oops, sorry, I'll be good. So what about your dad? He wasn't around either?"

"Hell, no. If my dad wasn't traveling on business, which was often, he would be awake before the sun and at the office by five in the morning."

"Five? Holy crap!" Bella turned her head to look at me, her eyebrows raised. "Was he a workaholic or something?"

"You could say that," I muttered sourly.

* * *

After Bella went to bed, I'd sat on the patio for about an hour, playing around on my guitar. While trying to pick out the melody that reminded me of the moment Bella told me she loved me, I'd enjoyed my first cigarette since leaving the hospital this morning.

Now, stretched out on the cushy but much too narrow sectional, I struggled to roll over and quiet my mind, thinking about the misery I knew I'd face when I quit cigarettes again.

I didn't need them anymore to deal with the stress and grief after losing Bella; my life was pretty sweet now. Plus, I needed to be in peak physical condition in the combat zone. Getting the shakes because my body was craving a cigarette or hacking up a lung during physical exertion were liabilities when bullets and grenades were your daily companions. But I'd have to psyche myself up to be able to handle the physical withdrawals from quitting, and I wasn't quite ready to deal with that shit yet.

Out of the stark stillness, I heard a scream. Startled, I sat up, my heart pounding. I listened, and after a few seconds, I could just barely hear what sounded like crying. Bella!

I bolted off the sofa, making my way through the dark living room as quickly as possible. As I entered the hallway, Alice's bedroom door opened and she stepped out, her eyes half-open and her hair disheveled.

"I've got it," I whispered. She nodded and turned around, quietly closing the door.

Bella's whimpering grew louder as I opened her door and stepped into the shadowy room. She was sitting on her bed with her knees drawn up, her head hanging down and buried in her hands. I didn't want to startle her, so I walked slowly to the side of the bed and paused, but she was still oblivious to my presence.

"No, no, please, I have to tell Edward. He doesn't know," she mumbled into her hands, her voice strained.

She has to tell me what, I wondered. I didn't know if she was lucid or still partially living the nightmare. "Bella?" I said softly.

Her head whipped up as she gasped, her fearful, watery eyes quickly appraising me. "Edward," she sobbed, raising up on her knees and reaching for me.

I dropped onto the bed and wrapped my arms around her. Frantically, she crawled onto my lap, draping her tensed limbs around me. She tucked her face into my neck and fastened her hands to my head, pulling and scratching as if she couldn't get close enough.

"It's okay—I've got you." I held her tightly, rubbing her back and stroking her neck. "It was just a dream, baby."

As soon as the words left my mouth, I recoiled at my hypocrisy. Did I really tell her it was just a dream when I knew better than anyone that some nightmares seem so real that the body knows no difference and kicks into fight or flight syndrome, releasing adrenaline? The terror induced is as paralyzing as the real deal. But what the fuck else could I say to comfort her? You'd think by now I'd be an expert on how to handle the after effects of nightmares, but if that was the case, I would have cured myself long ago. I was as helpless as anybody, completely fucking helpless to comfort my sweet Bella.

"Shh, I've got you," I whispered, kissing her forehead. "I've got you." After a minute or so, I felt her body begin to relax, her hands slowly dropping from a clenched state in my hair to a gentle hold around my neck. She was silent except for a sniffle here and there.

I twisted around and leaned down, trying to get her to lie back on the bed. "No, no, don't leave me," she cried, her hands frantically grabbing my back and her legs tightening around my waist.

"I'm not leaving . . . I promise. Let's lie down." With her body still wrapped around me, I shifted my body upward toward the pillows. She lowered one leg so I could lie down without crushing it, but her other leg was still hitched around my hip. She shimmied down, resting her cheek against my chest, our arms and legs entangled. "I'm not going anywhere."

I thought about the possibility of Charlie seeing me leave Bella's room in the morning, but the need to meet Charlie's approval by not sleeping with his daughter right under his nose suddenly seemed laughably unimportant. The only thing that mattered was what Bella needed—and she needed me.

"Try to sleep, Bella. I'll be here when you wake up." I caressed her wet cheek with my thumb. "I love you."

And finally she spoke. "Love . . . you, too," she mumbled sleepily, her lips tickling my chest.

**~*~ **_**Bella**_** ~*~**

In the course of one night, I'd woken up in hell following a nightmare and, then later, I'd woken up in heaven. When the morning light forced my eyes open, I'd become aware that my body was securely cocooned by Edward's, his long, lean legs woven with mine and his sculpted arm draped over my stomach. His chest and pelvis were flush against my backside, and I'd sighed as I lost myself to my senses, gently pressing myself into the warmth and hardness of his body. He'd woken immediately with an audible groan when I'd pushed my ass against his erection. I had thought that with a few more shameless grinds against him that his resolve would crumble, and he would say to hell with the doctor's orders and make love to me. But damn that man if he wasn't the poster child for self-control and willpower.

Pouring a glass of orange juice, I chuckled to myself remembering how he'd turned me over to face him and promptly kissed my nose, saying that he loved me and wanted me, but that it wasn't going to work. I'd ignored him, my hand moving quickly and with intent, like a heat-seeking missile. Its target was Edward's very own hot missile—a corny but apt metaphor. But before my hand was able to make contact with the target, Edward had bolted from the bed. He'd stood at the cracked door, cautiously looking into the hallway.

What a sight that had been, I remembered with a smile as I leaned against the kitchen counter. His hair had been both hilariously and sexily messy, eliciting the same reaction I'd had to the sight of his tented nylon shorts. I'd been torn between laughing and moaning with desire. After confirming the hall was empty, he'd looked back at me, smirking. "I'm taking a shower," he'd announced, winking at me before disappearing through the door.

I put my empty juice glass in the dishwasher and went to find Edward. After finding the bathroom and my bedroom empty, I wandered back to the living room where I spotted a flutter of bronze through the window. I walked to the patio door as quickly as my still-healing body would allow but halted abruptly with my hand on the door handle and my gaze on the heart-stopping sight on the other side of the glass. I freaking gasped aloud, immediately grateful that nobody was around to hear it. "Fuck . . . me," I panted, still staring at the vision outside.

Edward was standing on the patio, his body angled to allow me a breathtaking view of his profile. That jaw should be fucking bronzed and put in a museum. Wearing jeans and a white long-sleeve tee that he'd pushed up to his elbows, his hair was dark, still damp from his shower. But what really got me was the sight of his long, sexy fingers holding a cigarette to his mouth, his full lips closing around it. His lips pursed and his brows crinkled as he inhaled with intensity. Goddamn!

Taking a deep breath, I turned the doorknob and stepped out onto the patio. Edward turned and smiled at me, and then his lips curved sexily as he blew smoke out of the side of his mouth.

"I'm jealous," I said, quite pleased with my cleverly enigmatic statement.

Edward walked over to me, holding his cigarette to his side, away from me. "What?"

"You heard me right. I'm jealous . . . of that cigarette—the way you were making love to it."

He snorted, his eyes darting away from mine as his face broke into a shy but broad smile. Edward was always so confident and strong, which was the most attractive thing about him, but seeing a shadow of shyness in a man like him was absolutely riveting. I felt powerful. "But I'm also confused. You don't smoke."

"I know." He dropped his head down, his eyes on the ground. "I haven't really been myself since I came back from London, you know? It's an old habit that I kicked a few years back. It's helped me cope."

"I'm so sorry." My god, he'd started smoking because of me, because of missing me?

"No more apologies, Bella. It's time to look forward."

"Okay." I swallowed hard, mentally pushing my guilt to the side.

Instead, I focused on the perfection in front of me. I took a step closer to him, deciding to tell him exactly what I was thinking. "I hate everything about cigarettes: the smoke irritates my lungs; the smell clings to your clothes and hair; and, most of all, cigarettes kill people. So I'm trying to reconcile all of that with the fact that you look so freaking hot with a cigarette in your hand."

Edward chuckled, running his hand through his hair. Smiling, but with a serious tone, I continued, "I don't know what kind of voodoo you've got going on because I have _never_ thought smoking was sexy . . . not ever. You make me crazy."

Edward's shy, wandering eyes darted back to mine, but now they were darkly lustful and dominant. He leisurely brought the cigarette to his mouth, his eyes locked on mine. He held the burning cigarette between his pointer finger and thumb, his long fingers splayed upward. My attention flitted between his smoldering eyes and his red lips slowly wrapping around the filter. Closing his eyes, he inhaled, holding it in for a second. Lowering his hand, he opened his eyes and looked at me before tilting his head back and blowing the smoke upward. He stepped over to the patio table and dropped his cigarette in a nearly empty water bottle.

In a matter of seconds, he'd wielded control from me. The nearly blushing Edward was gone, replaced by predatory Edward who lunged for me. His large hands gripped my hips, pulling them forcefully against him. "I was planning on quitting soon, but if it gets you this riled up, maybe I shouldn't."

"I vote for quitting—you're plenty sexy without them. I want you around for a long time, and I want you healthy."

"Okay . . . soon." His hands moved from my hips, trailing up my back and into my hair. He leaned down and kissed my neck. "It's too bad you hate the smell of it because I really want to kiss you right now." He looked at me, the back of his curled fingers stroking my jaw.

I stared back at him, somewhat stunned by his assumption. He just didn't get it. Did he really think I wouldn't kiss him because of a little cigarette breath? My sweet Edward just didn't understand how deeply he affected me, how he'd somehow stirred my most carnal instincts and primal desires, ones that I hadn't even realized existed until I met him. Though it was somewhat embarrassing how bad I had it for him, I wanted him to know.

I smiled coyly, biting my lip. "See, that's the crazy thing—even if your mouth tasted like an ashtray, I'd still want to lick every inch of it. I've never wanted a man like I want you. I'm mystified by it really."

"So am I, but I'm not going to argue it. So lick away, baby."

I smiled and stretched up on my tiptoes, quickly covering his sexy, crooked smile with my mouth.

* * *

"This might not be the best activity, guys. I can't laugh anymore—it seriously hurts." I wiped tears of laughter from my eyes, gasping for air.

"I don't know what you think is so funny, Bella. Edward's ass in my face is _not_ fucking funny—it's just _wrong_." Emmett didn't crack a smile as he held his position on the Twister mat, his upside-down, blood-filled head just inches from Edward's delectable ass.

Edward was laughing so hard I had no idea how he wasn't falling on said delectable ass. He was nearly doing a split, with his right leg draped over Alice's back and the other one bent at an odd angle to his side.

"C'mon, Bella, laughter is the best medicine." Edward's voice was strained from trying to maintain his pretzel-like stance. "Just as long as you don't bust your stitches, that is."

"Helloooo!" Alice hollered. "I might be small, but I cannot hold my own weight indefinitely. Fucking spin, already, Bella. Oops, sorry, Chief Swan."

My dad, who hadn't made it beyond the third spin of the game, was sitting on the sofa beside me laughing just as hard as I was. He just shook his head incredulously. I think he was starting to get used to Alice's potty mouth. She made him laugh all the time, which seemed to help him overlook the frequent cursing that would normally offend him.

"Oh! Sorry, Al." I flicked the spinner, quickly calling out the next move. "Right foot, green."

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Emmett bellowed. "That is a physical impossibility."

"Maybe for you, pansy ass," Edward teased, removing his right leg from over Alice's back. My laughter subsided as I became mesmerized by Edward's careful maneuvering of his body. Slowly bending his leg compactly beneath him, he then blindly extended it at an angle behind him until his toes just barely reached the targeted green circle. Holy hell, for a man, he was surprisingly and tantalizingly limber.

Just then, Alice and Emmett collapsed into a pile of intertwined legs and arms, but Edward maintained his tenuous position. This was Edward's third win out of five games.

"And Edward is the Twister champion!" I announced, clapping enthusiastically.

"Fine with me," Emmett said smugly, still lying on the floor. He hugged Alice against his chest. "I quite like the loser's position." He looked at Alice just as she lifted her head up. Their eyes met, and he leaned down and kissed her. It was chaste and rather sweet.

"Uh-huh," Dad said, in that same voice he had always used whenever I gave him some cockamamie bullshit story when I was a kid. "Now I know why you were so keen on playing Twister, Emmett."

Em smiled proudly, like he'd just been awarded the Pulitzer Price for one of his articles. "Damn straight, Charlie. Twister is the best game ever invented as long as you play it with the right people."

His eyes shifted to Edward, his proud grin morphing into one I'd seen many times before—the impish smile. "Isn't that right, Edward?"

Everyone looked at Edward who was already rolling his eyes and huffing as he stood up. "Nobody's interested in yet another stroll down memory lane, Em. We need to get to the store anyway."

He stretched his arms over his head, and his shirt lifted up, exposing his defined abs. "Damn, I'm getting old," he groaned, bending over and touching his toes. I nearly snorted at his ridiculous self-assessment. If that there was what old looked like, then slap me and call me a geriatric lover.

Alice, still on the floor, sat up and crossed her legs. "Oh, yeah, I definitely smell a good story here. Let's hear it, Em."

"Well, the short version is that Edward was practically molested on a Twister mat our senior year of high school."

I snorted on purpose. "Since when have you ever told a short version of any story? Please don't start now—we want all the embarrassing details."

Edward glared at me, his brow arched and his arms folded. I grinned at him, and the corner of his mouth curled up, offering a reluctant smile.

"Okay, so we were at this party playing Drunk Twister. Well, I wasn't—I was watching. Somebody had taped two Twister mats together so more people could play. If you fell, not only were you out, but you had to down a shot. Edward was in a real sweet spot because it was only him and one other guy playing with about six very pretty girls. But then" —Emmett guffawed, clutching his stomach—"then one of the hot girls started feeling sick, so when she left the game, Julie took her place. That's when Edward's dream game went to hell." Emmett glanced at Edward, laughing.

"Why? Was she fugly?" Alice asked.

"Yeah, but that wasn't really the problem. She'd had a thing for Edward for years. If she'd been a nice girl and knew how to get a clue, then it wouldn't have been a problem. But she was either too dense or stubborn or something—she just never gave up. Edward was too nice to just tell her to fuck off.

"Anyway, she was all over Edward on that Twister mat like a fly on dog shit. Wherever he went, she went. She'd push her boobs in his face when it was obvious she could get in the position without putting her boobs in his face. But every chance she got, her ass or boobs were in his face. Or she'd put a leg over him, straddling him when she could have just as easily put her leg under him. It was fucking hilarious—he'd glance at me with this pained face, rolling his eyes."

Charlie cleared his throat, stifling a chuckle. "Pardon me for stating the obvious, but if it was so uncomfortable, why didn't you just fake a fall, so you'd be out of the game?"

Edward rubbed the back of his neck, staring at the floor. "I didn't want to lose," he muttered, glancing up through his lashes sheepishly.

"Oh, yeah, Charlie, you have no idea. Edward here is a competitive bastard. The word quit is not in his vocabulary, even when it comes to stupid shit like Twister."

"So did you win then?" I asked.

"Of course, I did," he answered smugly, his trademark smirk on full display.

"Yeah, but not before Julie messed with his junk," Emmett continued.

"What? She didn't!" I was genuinely shocked that a high school girl, especially a homely one, would be so crass and forward.

"That whore," Alice said dryly.

"Yeah, on this one spin, she extended her leg to reach one of the circles by putting it between Edward's legs. Then she moved so that her calf was touching his junk and started rubbing her leg back and forth on him. She wasn't even subtle about it!" Emmett cackled, his eyes wide. "I could tell Edward was trying to maneuver his ass to break the contact, but he couldn't because then his hands would lift off the circles. He was sort of stuck. I was laughing so hard over on the couch watching all this. I swear to god, I nearly hyperventilated."

"Yeah, some friend you are—standing by and laughing at me while I was nearly molested," Edward deadpanned, his eyes playful.

Emmett roared. "It's not like you couldn't have stopped it at any time, dude," Emmett shot back.

"Hey, sometimes you have to endure misery on the road to victory. What's a little sexual assault in exchange for the Twister Championship title?" He shrugged, a smile tugging at his lips.

Everyone broke out laughing, including Edward. Emmett helped Alice up off the floor, keeping one arm slung around her waist as she caught her breath.

Edward glanced at his watch. "We better get to the store, so I can get dinner started. You both still coming?" he asked, looking at Emmett and Dad.

They had decided earlier that they'd have an all boys' outing to the grocery story—real exciting. I was almost certain it was Edward's thoughtfulness at work, trying to carve out some time for me and Alice to have some needed girl talk. We'd had very little of it since the incident.

After giving me a small kiss and asking if I had any special requests, which I did—Chunky Monkey ice cream, please—Edward left with Em and Dad.

I twisted on the sofa where I'd probably left a permanent butt imprint over the last few days and looked at Alice. "Start talking and fast, girlfriend. We probably have less than an hour before they get back."

Alice's perfectly sculpted dark brows arched, and she tilted her head. "About?"

"Don't be obtuse—there's no time. Based on your 'there's nothing little about Emmett' comment the other day, I know you've seen what he's packing and that it probably puts the Statue of David to shame. What I want to know is if you've test driven his equipment yet, and, if you have, does he know how to use it?"

Alice exploded into a fit of giggles. "Who are you, and what have you done with my demure friend, Bella? You're not usually so crass."

"I know, right?" I shrugged, smiling in spite of my blush. "Edward brings it out in me. Plus, like I said, we don't have time for me to tactfully finagle information out of you. And I'm horny as hell, so I want all the lurid details."

"Well, I'm very happy to report that David is a little boy compared to my Em. And, yes, I have indeed test driven his equipment . . . repeatedly." She wiggled her eyebrows, smiling. "And . . . well, honestly, I think he's ruined me for any other man. I'm doomed if he ever decides he doesn't want me."

"Wow! That good, huh?"

Alice nodded, her entire face full of lightness and love. "I never knew it could be like this. As much as I loved Jasper, I never experienced that kind of passion and connection with him. I'm certain now that I made the right decision. I just hope that Jazz finds what I've found with someone else."

"Me, too." I reached across the sofa and hugged her. I was so happy that we'd both found two pretty amazing men—both really good, kind, and upstanding human beings. "I'm so happy for you, Al."

"Thanks, Bells. So, your turn—how have things been with Edward?"

"Perfect. Well, except for the no sex thing, per doctor's orders. I learned that Edward is a big rule follower and his willpower rivals the strength of steel." I rolled my eyes.

"Good for him. I like that guy more and more every day."

I playfully slapped Alice's arm. "Traitor."

"So, um, any signs of the PTSD?"

"No, he's doing really well actually. I haven't noticed anything."

Alice's gaze darted away, and her silence screamed that something was wrong. "What? Is there something I don't know?"

"Bells, I don't want to be a downer. I'm only telling you this so that you can hopefully talk to him and convince him to get some help."

"What? You're freaking me out here—just tell me."

"Sorry. Okay, so when you were unconscious, we were all gathered in the waiting room listening to Dr. Tassett update us on your condition. Edward had been a fucking basket case since he and Em arrived at the hospital in the middle of the night. Seeing him so distraught, I knew then that he was deeply in love with you. But anyway, while Dr. Tassett was talking about your injuries and your chance of survival, which was tenuous by the way, Edward just . . . I don't know . . . he like zoned out."

"What do you mean?" I asked warily, my heart feeling heavier the more Alice told me.

"He started mumbling and then nearly yelling. He was saying James' name. Em tried to snap him out of it, but he wasn't responsive. It was like he was dreaming, but his eyes were open. I did some reading later, and I really think he had what's called a flashback. Physically, he was sitting in that waiting room, but in his mind, he was back in the war. It was kind of scary, especially when he wouldn't respond to Emmett for a couple of minutes."

That was not what I'd expected to hear. I thought that he'd probably had some kind of angry outburst or something, but this was a completely different level of fucked up. I sunk back into the sofa, my body suddenly weak and listless. "Oh, my god," I mumbled softly to myself, my trembling fingers picking mindlessly at my lip. "My sweet Edward."

"I'm so sorry, Bella. I didn't want to upset you, but somebody has to convince him to get some help with this. Emmett has tried. Maybe he'll listen to you."

"Don't be sorry—I'm glad you told me. It just makes me sad, knowing he's suffering. And I feel helpless. I suggested therapy to him when we were in England, but he wouldn't even discuss it. I don't know how to convince him."

"I think he'd do just about anything for you now. He knows what life is like without you."

"I hope you're right."

**~*~ **_**Edward**_** ~*~**

I could get used to this. Cooking a nice dinner for Bella, spending the evening with her doing whatever—it didn't really matter, as long as I was with her—and then climbing into bed with her for the night. I tightened my hold on her, running my fingers along the inside of her arm, just lost in the feel of her.

She pressed her lips to my chest and then tilted her head back. "The shrimp étouffée was delicious, just the right amount of spiciness. You're spoiling me, you know."

"Well, I hope so. That's my job now, and I take it very seriously."

She lifted her head from my chest, smiling up at me. "Thank you for not sleeping on the couch. I know you aren't really comfortable being here with me with my dad down the hall."

"Like I said, taking care of you is my job now. If you need me here, then nothing else matters, including my ideas of decorum."

"Sometimes I still can't quite believe that you're really here," she mumbled, her head resting back on my chest.

"I know what you mean. I'd pretty much accepted that I wouldn't ever see you again. I never expected that you'd change your mind." I paused, realizing this was as good a time as any to ask her something that had been on my mind. "Why did you change your mind, Bella? I mean, how did you get over your fears about me deploying?"

"I wouldn't say I got _over_ my fears . . . they're still there. I just got to a place where I didn't let the fear control my choices. And I got to that place by seeing a therapist."

"Really? What made you decide to go to a therapist in the first place?"

She lifted her head again, folding her arms on my chest and resting her chin there. I looked down, meeting her eyes. "The longer I was without you, the more I realized how much I loved you. And yet I still wouldn't allow myself to be with you because of fear. I began to realize that was pretty messed up, that I was being irrational. Several things contributed to making me recognize that—the lyrics of a song, a book, nightmares, but mostly, my friends telling me I'd made a terrible mistake.

"Edward, it's important to me that you understand that I wanted to call you every single day and beg you to take me back, but every time I thought about Iraq, I became paralyzed with fear again. Ultimately, I started seeing the therapist because I wanted to get better so that I could be with you."

"You're amazing," I whispered, stroking her soft hair.

"Not really," she said wistfully, dropping her head back down. "I was forced into a corner—I had to take a hard look at myself if I wanted any chance to be with you."

"Still, you did it. You're so strong." I could tell she was tired. Her eyes were closed, and her words were slow. "Sweet dreams tonight, okay?"

"Hmm, I love you."

"I love you back." I closed my eyes, relaxed and happy, and let myself go.

_The entire troop was surrounded by enemy small arms fire, RPG attacks and artillery from all directions. As two tanks from 2d platoon were hit and began to burn, B44 became mired, so I directed my crew on B4 and the crew of my wingman, B3, to recover B4. While B3 and the remainder of B4's crew recovered the tank, Sergeant Bailey and I went to offer aid to the crews that had been hit and were now out of their vehicles seeking cover on the North side of the road. _

_Keeping an eye on my surroundings and laying suppressive fire in the direction of the heaviest enemy fire, I did a double take when I saw James, my closest friend during my years in the Army, lying in the middle of the damn street. I ran to him, bullets dancing around my ankles as I scrambled across the road. When I reached him, I dove on top of him, covering him with my body. Still in a prone position over him, I laid out some suppressive fire on the enemy. I couldn't fucking pick him up while shooting, so I dragged him out of the street with one arm while I fired my weapon with my other hand. _

_When I had him safely behind a military vehicle, I gasped in horror when I got a good look at him. James was bleeding profusely from two wounds in his chest. I grabbed his face, shaking it. "James, James!" Then I pressed my palms against his wounds. There was so much fucking blood. I looked back at his face, but it wasn't him_—_it was Bella's face, pale and lifeless. _

_"Bella! No, please, don't leave me," I sobbed, scooping her limp, bloody body into my arms. _

"Edward. Edward!"

_Bella's lifeless body faded from my view, but terror and grief held me tight as I was pulled away from her into blackness._

"Bella, Bella!" I cried out.

Warm hands pushed on my chest, shaking me repeatedly. "Edward, wake up."

Gasping, I opened my eyes and quickly realized it was all a dream, another fucking nightmare. Bella hovered next to me on her knees, her small hands on my chest and her brown eyes brimming with concern. The relief that it wasn't real, that Bella's warm body, beautiful and breathing, was right next to me was emotionally overpowering.

"Bella? You're okay? Oh, god, you're here!" Desperate to vanquish the lingering grief that carried over from the dream, I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her down on top of me, wrapping my arms around her. My hands frantically wandered over her entire backside and reveled in her soft warmth, gradually finding comfort in knowing the dream was a lie. My fingers rubbed her shoulders, ghosted over her back, and then kneaded the voluptuous curve of her ass. "You're safe," I whispered, sighing in relief. "I love you."

She clung to me tightly, matching my desperate need to feel her flesh, to convince myself that she was alive and was still mine. Her hands massaged my head, tugging gently at my hair. "It was just a dream," she said softly, her lips grazing my ear. "I'm here."

Suddenly, I felt her open mouth on my neck, and I sucked in a quick breath, the simple action causing my dick to twitch. Her soft lips and warm, wet tongue began dancing across my skin.

"Bella," I moaned. When she made her way up my neck to my jaw line, I turned my head, capturing her darting tongue with my mouth. I kissed her hard, and she whimpered into my mouth, making me even more ravenous for her.

I hadn't had sex in six long weeks, so just physically speaking, I was a horny motherfucker. Whacking off took care of the physiological need for release, but it did nothing to satisfy the craving for human connection. I had a bond with Bella like none I'd ever known before, and that tie was felt most acutely when we'd made love. We hadn't been able to be together like that since getting back together, and more importantly, since confessing that we were in love with each other. All of this made my desire for her nearly unbearable. I wanted to be inside her in a desperate way. The only thing holding me back was the fear that I might hurt her. She liked to act tough, but she was still fragile and weak.

I was growing harder by the second, and I knew I needed to stop this before I reached the point of no return. Just as I was about to break the kiss and slow things down, she bit down gently on my lip as she sucked on it, simultaneously grinding on my erection.

"Fuck," I panted against her lips. "You're killing me here, baby."

"Death by orgasm could be arranged."

"That sounds fucking fantastic," I growled between kisses, "but you know we can't. We've gotta stop."

Still kissing me, she opened her legs and shifted to straddle me. I groaned when she positioned herself so that my painfully hard dick was between her legs, barely grazing her pussy.

"No, we don't," she said forcefully, interrupting our kissing and staring at me intently. "The doctor said no intercourse, but there are plenty of other things we can do. If I'm honest, I probably shouldn't have an orgasm because it's pretty taxing on the body, but there's no reason I can't take care of you."

She smirked, nipping at her lower lip with her teeth as she pressed hard against my cock, thrusting her hips up and then back down.

I moaned and held her hips tightly, trying to control the nearly involuntary urge to move her hips over my dick again. "No, Bella—that would be too strenuous for you."

She kissed me softly. "You're right," she whispered, her warm breath on my mouth, taunting me.

I opened my eyes and looked at her, surprised she was conceding. Her lips looked thoroughly kissed, more plump and red than usual. My whiskers had left their mark on the delicate, ivory skin around her mouth and especially on her chin. Her long chestnut hair was wild, matching the look in her eyes. Perched on top of me, she looked like a sex goddess, and, to me, she was.

Yet, nothing could have prepared me for the words that came out of her mouth next. "Dry humping is too tiring. Instead, I want you to fuck my mouth."

"What? No!" My mouth was saying no, but my dick vehemently disagreed. As soon as Bella's lips released those salacious words into the air, my dick went from merely hard to something resembling titanium. Her dirty-talking mouth was a huge fucking turn on, and every man's dream was to have complete control when getting head. However, my heart was appalled by the idea of doing that to her when she was barely three days out of the hospital. I couldn't use her like that, selfishly getting myself off. "No fucking way."

"Yes!"

"Bella, I won't use you like that. You're still recovering."

"You won't be using me. I want to . . . I _need_ to. And I won't have to expend any energy this way. Even getting you off with my hand requires effort, but this position is perfect."

She climbed off of me and propped up two pillows against the headboard. She positioned herself so she was sitting upright, her head against the now cushioned headboard. "Come here," she urged, tugging on my arm. "Get on your knees in front of me."

I'd always prided myself on my self-restraint; I'd become quite disciplined throughout my years in the military. But no mere mortal could be expected to resist seduction like this. My cock was nearly bursting out of my shorts, and the woman I loved was nearly begging me to put it in her mouth.

"Bella, I just—" I struggled to say the words, to turn her down again, but my resolve was rapidly crumbling. I groaned, closing my eyes and scrubbing my face with my hands.

Unexpectedly, my shorts were yanked down, my erection slapping against my stomach. I opened my eyes just as Bella's hand wrapped around the base, and she opened her mouth, plunging my dick into it in one abrupt but fluid motion.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." I was incoherent, reduced to a quivering, foul-mouthed fool.

With a loud pop, she released me and pressed a soft kiss to the tip. "Mmm, you feel so good in my mouth." She took me in again, sucking me like a Hoover vacuum all the way back up like the sex goddess she was. I growled, instinctively thrusting my hips upward.

As she came up again, she replaced her mouth with her hands, stroking me. "You're so stubborn, baby, so I guess I'll have to do this the strenuous way."

She smiled, and then went down on me again, taking as much of me into her mouth as she could. When she sucked her way back up my length, her tongue flicked out and swirled around the tip, her eyes on mine the entire time. "Gosh, I hope I don't break my stitches with all this exertion."

Fuck me! I grabbed her waist, forcefully but carefully shifting her onto her back into her previous position against the headboard. I was now beyond the point of no return, and she was right—her suggested position was the least physically demanding for her. Hurriedly, I pulled my shorts off and straddled her, moving onto my knees until my still ridiculously hard dick was right in front of her face.

She smiled deviously as she sunk her fingertips into my ass cheeks and pulled me closer, but she didn't take me into her mouth. She kept her head still, resting it against the pillow. "Do it. Fuck my mouth," she commanded, opening her mouth wide with her eyes locked onto mine.

That sight alone nearly undid me—her lust-filled eyes looking up at me and her luscious mouth wide open, begging for my cock.

"Bella," I whispered adoringly as I slowly pushed myself between her lips. Groaning, I threw my head back in pure ecstasy, the initial sensation—warmth, wetness, and velvet gripping my cock—so intense that I nearly came right then. But I wanted to savor our intimacy together, so I remained still for a moment to regain some control, my dick resting blissfully in Bella's mouth.

I breathed deeply, lowering my head and looking down at the sexiest fucking thing I'd ever seen. Bella's lips were closed around my dick, her tongue swirling along the shaft, but she kept her head completely still. When I looked at her, she winked, and the corner of her mouth turned upward. Goddamn, this woman was my dream, my fantasy come to life.

I grinned at her and leaned down, clutching the headboard tightly as I pulled out, and then thrust back into her mouth. I knew she couldn't take all of me—no woman I'd been with had been able to do that—so I was careful to not thrust all the way in.

I found a quick rhythm that Bella seemed to be comfortable with. My focus continually darted between her eyes, which never left mine, and the hypnotic sight of my dick sliding in and out of her beautiful mouth. Bella's fingernails ghosted over my ass, and then drifted down to my thighs, her fingers gripping my flexing muscles.

After six weeks of fantasizing about her and several days of resisting her in the flesh, it wasn't going to take me long. I heard my breathing become rapid and labored, the sound nearly deafening against the stillness of the night. I gripped the headboard tighter, my muscles tensing and straining as the delicious pressure neared the point of combustion. I knew better than to try to pull out when I came. She wanted all of me—I'd learned that when she'd sucked me off at the Tower of London, happily swallowing every last drop. Goddamn, I was a lucky bastard.

I looked intently into her expressive eyes and saw both love and lust staring back at me. "Bella . . . I love you"—_thrust_—_"_so"—_thrust_—"fucking"—_thrust_ "much."

"Mmmm," she hummed, the sound sending vibrations along my shaft.

"Ohh, fuck, Belll-laa." Nearing my release, I pumped into her mouth a little faster, consciously restraining myself from going too deep.

I heard and felt a low, deep moan escape her throat again, the fucking fantastic vibrations reverberating down my cock and pushing me to the edge. Just when I thought the sensations couldn't get any more intense, I felt her fingers on my balls, stroking them gently. I hadn't even been aware her hand had found its way between my legs, so the touch was unexpected—marvelously unexpected.

"I'm gonna come, baby." Gripping the headboard, I thrust once more and pulsed into her mouth, grunting and groaning like a wild animal.

Panting feverishly, I opened my eyes as I pulled out and sunk down on my bent legs. After catching my breath, I kissed her tenderly. "You okay?"

"I'm fabulous." She smiled, stroking my jaw.

I eyed her suspiciously, wondering if she was telling me the truth. I wouldn't put it past her to hide that sort of thing from me.

"Nothing hurts—I promise," she convincingly assured me.

Exhausted, I crawled down her body, my knees still on each side of her. Lifting her tank top to just below her breasts, I lay down, resting my head on her stomach. Her fingers were in my hair right away, and I smiled contentedly as I slid my fingers beneath her back, holding her close.

"I've never done that before," Bella said softly. "I had no idea. It was . . . oh, god, it was just . . . ah-ma-zing!"

I lifted my head to look at her. "_You_ are amazing."

Her fingers moved from my hair to my jaw, grasping my face between her hands. "_We_ are amazing," she whispered. "And we're going to do that again tomorrow. You're not going to play hard to get again, are you?" She said it seriously with an arched eyebrow, but her eyes danced with amusement.

"Uh, that would be a big fucking _nooo_. Now that I know I won't hurt you, not only will I not play hard to get, I think you've turned me into a slut because I will willingly fuck your sweet mouth anytime—morning, noon, or night."

"Edward!" She squealed disapprovingly, but her smile and giggle betrayed her. I was well aware that she got off on my tendency toward sexual dominance and my penchant for talking dirty.

I lowered my head, placing a simple but firm kiss on her belly button. Keeping my head down, I raised my eyes until I could see hers staring intently at me. I stuck out my tongue, slowly tracing the perimeter of her belly button before suctioning my mouth to it and sucking really hard. She gasped. "Edward! Oh, shit, that feels good. Please don't tease me."

I broke the suction with a pop. "I'm sorry. I really wasn't trying to tease you. I just felt the urge to mark you."

"With a belly button hickey?" She teased, giggling.

"Uh, yeah, why not? It was right there staring at me. And that skin is particularly sensitive, wouldn't you say?"

"Oh, yes, it felt surprisingly good."

I glanced down to see a pretty impressive hickey already becoming visible around her belly button. "Well, look at that," I said proudly.

Bella's eyes widened as she stared at it, her mouth hanging open. "Holy crap, Edward!"

I laughed heartily. "I don't mess around, baby. You're wearing my mark, so I guess you're officially mine now," I joked, still chuckling as I kissed the raspberry-colored hickey.

She didn't say anything, and she wasn't laughing along with me. I looked up to see her staring at me, her expression serious.

"I think maybe I've always been yours," she said quietly. She caressed my jaw, and then traced my lips with her thumb. "We just hadn't met yet." She smiled softly, and her eyes began to glisten.

I was motionless, paralyzed by an overwhelming surge of love and gratitude for her. Her words moved me so deeply because they reflected my own feelings, though I could never articulate it as beautifully as she had. I'd never considered that she might feel as deeply for me as I did for her, but now, I knew it was true. I could see it in her kind eyes; I could hear it in her words, and, most powerfully, I could feel it in the energy pulsing between us. I choked back a sob, my eyes tearing up as this new awareness descended upon me, her guileless love for me palpable in the air.

I rose up on my hands and knees, slowly crawling until my lips were inches from hers. I sat back on my haunches, straddling her and held her sweet face in my hands. I tilted her head back and kissed her in a manner that I hoped reflected my feelings. I kissed her slowly and languidly but definitely not softly nor timidly. My feelings for Bella were strong and passionate, and so my kiss was firm and unyielding, yet slow and purposeful. I was certain I would never tire of kissing my beautiful Bella. I had to force myself to take my lips from hers just long enough to whisper something to her. "And I've always been yours—I always will be."

* * *

**A/N: I hope you liked the lemony goodness as much as I did. I have to admit – just writing it got me all a-tingly! Next chapter, we'll get inside Bella's head and find out why she loved the mouth-fucking so damn much. Some women find it demeaning; I hope I wrote it in a way that you did not. **

**PLEASE NOTE: The first paragraph of Edward's nightmare was taken from an actual account. They are not my words.**


	28. Lobsters Say I'm Sorry

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. **

**A/N: Thank you, my wonderful, loyal readers! TIWBG finally hit 500. Woo-hoo! **

**Big fat lesbian kisses for my rockstar betas, Pickwicksociety, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180.**

* * *

_**Chapter 28 – Lobsters Say I'm Sorry**_

**~*~ **_**Bella**_** ~*~**

"Good morning, Dad."

"Morning." Strolling into the kitchen, Charlie smiled, his sweet face all clean shaven. Well, except for the Charlie-stache, a perfectly thick, but neatly trimmed brown arch over his upper lip. I'd never seen my dad without his trademark moustache. I'm pretty sure that it was the equivalent of a security blanket for him.

"Alice," he said, nodding at her.

"Morning, Charlie." She lifted her coffee cup in a toasting gesture.

Resting his hand on my shoulder, he kissed my forehead as I opened the cabinet to get a coffee cup. "How'd you sleep?"

"Uh, really well," I answered truthfully while pouring us each some coffee.

Though Edward's nightmare had disturbed my sleep, waking us both up in the middle of the night, I'd slept like a newborn after I'd gotten him off. It didn't really make sense—you'd think I'd be even more wound up and restless, aching for my own release, but I wasn't. Seeing Edward lose his resolve, unable to resist me, and hearing his guttural groans from the pleasure that I was providing him, left me deeply satisfied and content. I felt desired and loved . . . and powerful, I admit. Oh, crap, here I was daydreaming about Edward fucking my mouth with my dad was standing right next to me. _Oh, that is just so wrong, _I thought, feeling my cheeks flush. I shivered inwardly as I slid onto a chair at the table, sipping my coffee.

"How are you feeling?" Standing by the counter, Charlie shot me a serious stare, blindly spooning sugar into his coffee. "Have you been having any pain, Bells?"

"I'm doing pretty good. I'm uncomfortable sometimes, but it's not too bad." I was over the worst of it, I was sure. When I'd first woken up in the hospital, I was in a lot of pain, but they doled out some pretty powerful pain meds, so it wasn't too bad once they'd doped me up.

"What time did you say your doctor's appointment is tomorrow?" Dad asked as he sat down at the table

"It's at ten o'clock."

"Good. I'll feel better having you checked out one more time before your graduation on Friday. I just don't want you overdoing it."

"It'll be fine, Dad. Walking across a stage isn't that strenuous." I smirked at his over protectiveness.

"I'm going to be on the patio with the guys," Alice announced, getting up from the table and putting her empty mug in the dishwasher.

"Okay," I mumbled as she left.

"Alice seems to be a great friend to you."

I nodded, smiling. "The best."

Charlie cleared his throat. "And, uh, that Edward seems to be a pretty good boyfriend."

My eyes darted to his, not sure I'd heard him right. "Really?"

My dad and I hadn't had much time alone, so we hadn't discussed my relationship with Edward. Charlie had never liked Jacob much, so I guess I expected the same with Edward. I figured that no man would ever measure up in my dad's eyes. And after learning from Alice that Charlie had witnessed Edward's PTSD freak out in the hospital, I expected my dad to caution me about Edward, not endorse him.

Charlie chuckled. "You don't think so?"

"What? Oh, no! I mean, yes." Hell, I was so confused, my little brain scrambled by my dad's surprisingly positive comment about Edward. "Yes, Edward is a great boyfriend."

"Then why are you so surprised?"

"Well, Jacob was a good boyfriend, too, yet he never could seem to get your approval."

"On the surface he seemed like a good guy. He was friendly, always smiling, and seemed to treat you well, but . . . I don't know. I always felt that something was off, that his character was lacking somehow."

I rolled my eyes. "I have no idea how you knew, but—" I stared at the tawny brown liquid in my mug. "Obviously you were right, and I was wrong about him."

"I wish I'd been wrong, honey." Charlie's hand moved to my forearm, patting it affectionately.

"I know."

Charlie cleared his throat and pulled his hand away, gulping down his coffee. "I'm getting a completely different vibe from Edward, though. I know I haven't known him long, but we did talk a lot at the hospital. As far as I can tell, he's a man of integrity. He couldn't be more different than Jacob."

I smiled proudly. The two most important men in my life not only liked each other but respected one another. I was thrilled yet still a little baffled. How could Charlie not be concerned about what he'd witnessed at the hospital? It gave _me_ serious concern, and I was the one in love with Edward.

"I'm so glad you think so, Dad, because I do, too. Edward is an amazing man, but . . . um, Alice told me about Edward sort of spacing out at the hospital. I thought you'd be warning me about him, not praising him."

"Bella, what I saw in the hospital with Edward . . . well, that's a problem that can be alleviated over time. On the other hand, weak character is deeply ingrained. I don't believe it can be fixed."

"So you're not worried about Edward's, um . . . his problem?"

"I'll be worried if he doesn't get some help for it, but I think he will eventually."

I scrunched up my face, perplexed as to how Charlie could assume such a thing. When I'd tried to talk to Edward about therapy in England, he'd shut down immediately. Suddenly, Charlie was an expert on my boyfriend. "Uh, yeah, it's not that simple, Dad. He isn't open to therapy at all."

"I'd venture a guess that you haven't talked to him about it recently."

I nodded, confirming his assumption. Charlie took my hand in both of his, turning me toward him until I met his eyes. "Be patient with him, honey. Love can give a man the strength to face his greatest fears. I think he'd walk through the fires of hell to avoid losing you again."

As hope filled my heart, my eyes began filling with tears. I wrapped my arms around his neck, hugging him tightly and gratefully. "Thank you, Dad."

After a comforting Dad hug, Charlie excused himself to join everyone on the patio. I told him I'd join them in a few minutes after I checked my email. I padded off to my bedroom, wondering how many emails might have accumulated in the two weeks since I'd wound up in the hospital.

I plopped down in the chair at my desk, powering on the computer. Twirling my hair around my finger, my mind wandered as I waited for the computer to boot up. I had been alone in this very room—just like now—on that night when I'd heard a noise coming from the living room.

"Aaaahhhh!" A scream ripped from my lungs of its own volition in response to a noise coming from behind me. My furiously palpitating heart pummeled my chest, and my lungs felt tight, not allowing me to breathe deeply enough. I swiveled in my chair to face the door where the noise had come from, nearly falling off as my hands flew up protectively to shield my face. I was paralyzed with fear but managed to peek through my fingers.

"Edward?" My voice was foreign, squeaky and strained.

"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry." Edward fell to his knees in front of me, gently gripping my shoulders. "Bella, you need to slow your breathing down. Breathe in through your nose—one-two-three. Okay, now exhale very slowly." His hands slid off my shoulders, rubbing my back in long slow strokes. "One-two-three-four-five-six. Good, good."

As my breathing slowed, so did my rapid heartbeat. "What the hell, Edward? You scared the ever-living shit out of me."

I dropped my head to his shoulder, letting out another deep, heavy breath. Edward's hands slid under my legs to my bottom, lifting me off the chair. Nuzzling my face into his warm neck, I wrapped my arms and legs around him as he carried me to the bed.

He sat down, gently prying me away from his chest and lifting my chin up until I looked at him. I stayed on his lap with my legs around his waist; I felt safe when I was close to him.

"I'm sorry I frightened you, but—" His eyes wandered as he rubbed his unshaven jaw. "All I did was walk in the room—the door was open."

"Yeah, but the noise when you came in . . . it startled me, that's all."

His eyebrows knit together, his lips pressed in a taut line. "Bella?" His eyes closed as he pressed his forehead to mine. "I think maybe you should talk to your therapist about what happened to you," he whispered.

Pulling my head back, I looked at him, no doubt my face revealing the astonishment that I felt. Was _Edward_ telling _me_ that _I_ needed therapy? Speechless, I looked into his eyes as I tried to decide whether to laugh or to lash out at his hypocrisy, but both impulses very quickly melted away. His countenance told me that this wasn't about him controlling me nor was it about pointing out my weaknesses while ignoring his own. His eyes were heavy with love and genuine concern. He almost looked pained.

"You really think I need it?" I would not shut him down like he did to me when I'd urged him to get counseling. Perhaps he could see my needs more clearly than I could, just as his PTSD was glaringly obvious to me and to others but not to him.

"Well, yeah. I mean, there was the nightmare, and now this. You weren't just startled, Bella. You were terrified. Maybe your therapist could help you process what happened to you." He sighed, and then kissed my forehead. "I just want you to be happy."

"I understand that feeling—I want you to be happy, too. So . . . um, how about this? I'll go to therapy if you will."

Edward's jaw clenched and flexed like it always does when he's pissed off or at least uncomfortable with a situation. "We're not talking about me. This is about you," he said, his voice cold and tense.

In one swift movement, he removed me from his lap and stood up, shoving his hands into his jeans' pockets. He walked to the window where he gazed out, keeping his back to me.

"You can't just ignore what happened at the hospital."

He whirled around abruptly. "What?" he growled, his eyes now filled with fury. His venomous response startled me.

We stared at each other, the room maddeningly quiet as I decided to risk pushing him more than I ever had before. "Edward, _please_. We have both experienced traumatic events, and we both need to talk to someone about it."

"Who told you?" His eyes were narrowed, his nostrils flaring like an angry bull ready to charge. "Who told you what happened at the hospital?"

I wasn't about to offer up Alice to be sacrificed at the altar of Angry-and-In-Denial Edward. "That's not important."

I hated doing it, but he'd left me no choice. I was going to have to play the hypocrisy card to try to get through to him. "Don't you think that—"

Without a word, he bounded toward the door and was gone. I gazed at the doorway, stunned that he'd walked out on me, mid-sentence no less. My mouth was still hanging open, poised to say the next words—"it's a bit hypocritical to suggest I need counseling when you're also having nightmares and worse?"

I closed my open trap and expelled a heavy sigh, flopping back onto the pillows. "Shit, shit, shit," I grumbled under my breath, my arms draped over my clenched eyes. My dad was so wrong—Edward's fear was greater than his love for me or for himself.

Should I stick to what I said and refuse to go to therapy unless Edward goes, too? It was manipulative, for sure, but maybe he'd give in if he knew that was the only way I'd get the help that he thought I needed. No, I couldn't do that. It might very well work, but at what cost? I despised being manipulated by others; I wouldn't do it to Edward. Besides, it would be far less effective if he was in therapy unwillingly. He needed to make the choice to get help, to open his heart and mind to it.

I rolled onto my side, pulling my legs up to my chest. I was so freaking confused. Should I push him harder, insisting that he go to therapy or else we're done? No, I couldn't issue that ultimatum unless I meant it; otherwise, it too would be nothing more than manipulation. And I wouldn't mean it—it would be a lie. I would never—could never—leave him again. I'd devastated both of us when I'd ended our relationship in London. I'd learned my lesson well. Flawed as we both were, we belonged together.

Edward genuinely thought I needed therapy to deal with the shooting. Did I? It hadn't occurred to me before he brought it up, but if I was honest with myself, he was probably right. The nightmare I'd had the other night was so effing real; it was as terrifying as that night had been. And I felt the same intensity of fear when Edward startled me as I'd felt the night I was surprised by intruders in the living room. Obviously, that wasn't normal.

Riley had helped me immensely in overcoming my fears of abandonment, so he could probably help me with this new problem. Maybe I could take the lead with therapy. If he saw me taking steps to get better, would it give him the courage to do the same? _Lead by example. _I wasn't sure where that came from, but I must have heard it or read it somewhere. Maybe I could be an example for Edward.

I got up from the bed and headed out of my room to look for him. I would apologize for upsetting him. Then I would kiss those sweet lips of his and tell him how much I loved him, no matter what.

Alice came around the corner as I entered the hallway, nearly running into me. "Ohh, Bella!" she squeaked. "I was just coming to find you."

"Can it wait a minute? I really need to talk to Edward first."

"Actually, that's why I was looking for you. Edward left."

I gasped. "He left?"

"Oh, shit! Bella, no! He just borrowed my car for a bit. He said he needed some fresh air."

"I can't believe he just left."

"He'll be back. It's probably good that he did leave. Sometimes taking a breather from a difficult conversation is a good thing."

"Yeah, maybe." I stared at the floor of the hallway. For him to take off without a word to me, he had to be really freaking upset. I'd pushed him too far.

I felt Alice's fingers intertwine with mine, pulling me down the hallway with her. "C'mon, let's get comfy."

In the living room, we sank onto the squishy softness of the white leather sectional, propping our legs on the ottoman.

"So, did you two have a fight or did he go all PTSDward on you for no obvious reason?" Alice, as ever, was to the point.

"What did you say?" I glared at her. "PTSDward?"

"Um, yeah," she mumbled, shrugging. "Sorry."

I rolled my eyes at her. The little nickname she'd coined was rather offensive to me. It seemed so disrespectful of Edward and of a very serious situation. But I knew Alice well enough to believe that she hadn't meant it that way. Humor was just how she dealt with serious crap.

"I dared suggest that he start seeing a therapist," I finally answered.

"Ahh! Okay, that explains why he high-tailed it out of here like you'd asked him to have a sex change operation."

She was trying so hard to cheer me up, so I forced a small smile for her benefit. "Where's my dad and Em?"

"They went with Edward."

"That's good," I mumbled, pulling at my lip. "I'm glad he's not alone."

"Me, too, but I'm certain that's exactly what he wanted. Emmett and Charlie sort of invited themselves along when he asked if he could borrow my car. Edward is a pathetic actor." She grinned playfully. "He tried to be nice about it, but it was so obvious that he didn't want them to tag along."

I chuckled, grateful that they were either oblivious to Edward not wanting their company or they were aware but ignored him anyway.

"Enough about me and my drama. How's Emmett?"

Alice lit up like a Christmas tree. Good lord, I'd never seen her like this—all googly-eyed and in love.

"How's Em?" she repeated. "Emmett is . . . hmm, pretty much perfect, I'd say."

"You two are so perfect for each other."

Alice giggled again, popping up on her knees and bouncing on the sofa as she clapped her hands. "I know, right? God, I never knew it could be like this. We talk so easily and our personalities are similar, so the friendship thing is definitely there. And then the icing on the cake is that he turns me on like no other man. I mean, I am so goddamned attracted to him—it shocks me just how much I crave him."

"I'm happy to say that I know exactly what you mean."

"I know I made the right choice—breaking up with Jasper—but I do miss him. I miss our friendship."

"You know he's going to be at our graduation, right?"

"Yeah, I know, and that's fine. I'm comfortable around him. I saw him a lot when you were in the hospital. It was a little awkward when he and Emmett were both around, but Jasper was cool. He talked to me and was friendly enough, but I doubt our friendship will ever be the same."

"I can't believe we're finally graduating. We'll be real, certified teachers."

"Yes, certified and most definitely certifiable to willingly sign up to teach hormonally-controlled monsters we call teenagers."

I barked out a laugh. Sweet Alice—no matter how foul my mood, she could always cheer me up. She was one of a kind, and Emmett was a lucky man.

**~*~ **_**Edward**_** ~*~**

"Do you like lobster, Charlie?"

"Never had it," he grunted, scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh." I tried to hide my surprise, quickly closing my gaping mouth. Coming from a lifestyle of abundance since the day I was born, it was almost incomprehensible to me that some people had never eaten lobster. "Okay, what about crab?"

"Oh, yeah, I eat endless platefuls of crab legs at the Chinese buffet in Port Angeles. That's a town not too far from Forks."

"Well, then, you'll like lobster. How does that bad boy look to you?" I asked him, pointing to one of the lobsters in the aquarium. "He's probably a two-pounder, I'd guess."

"Whatever you think, Edward. I'm game."

"Damn, look at this one!" Emmett pointed at the biggest lobster I'd ever seen, seemingly staring back at us through the glass.

I laughed, my mood considerably lighter since getting out of the house. "He has your name all over him, Em."

"We're ready," I said to the man behind the counter. "I want this guy here for sure." I pointed to the monster lobster that Emmett had picked out for himself. "And then I need four more—all two-pounders if you've got them."

Several minutes later we headed out of the store with three bottles of wine, five lobsters, corn on the cob, and potatoes, so I could make my famous garlic mashed potatoes. Well, famous amongst my immediate family members and friends anyway.

"Can you guys go ahead and put the groceries in the car?" I asked, stopping next to the Redbox outside the grocery store. "I'm gonna rent a movie. Any suggestions?"

"No, whatever you want is fine," Emmett hollered, pushing the cart into the parking lot.

"Charlie?"

"I got nothing," he yelled, walking backwards alongside Emmett.

I scrolled quickly through the movie selections, not wanting to keep them waiting on me, but I didn't have a particular movie in mind. Finally, a title I'd heard of before caught my eye. It had been nominated for an Academy Award, and I'd wanted to see it for a long time but just hadn't gotten around to it. I pushed the selection button and hoped that Bella wouldn't be opposed to a foreign flick.

Sliding into the driver's seat, I tossed the movie over to Emmett and started up the car.

"What kind of fuckery is this?" Emmett held the DVD, looking at it like I'd rented a documentary on inbreeding in polygamist sects.

"Come on, Em, open your mind a bit. Expand your horizons."

"What is it?" Charlie asked from the back seat.

"It's a foreign film with English subtitles," I answered.

"Reading a movie sounds like too much work," Charlie grumbled.

"I have faith that Bella isn't as uncultured as you two."

"Speaking of Bella, do you want to talk about it?" Emmett asked. I could feel his gaze on me as I pulled out of the parking lot.

I didn't want to get into it, but I did want to rip Emmett a new one if he'd been the one to open his big mouth to Bella. "Somebody told her about what happened at the hospital, about when I . . . about my . . . episode." Fuck, this was uncomfortable, more so with Charlie listening.

"It wasn't me," Em said immediately.

"It wasn't me," Charlie added.

"Alice," we all said in unison.

"Okay, so Bella knows." Emmett tossed the DVD onto the dashboard. "So what?"

I stared at the road ahead, ignoring him. I didn't want to tell them that Bella had asked me to go to counseling because then they'd put their fucking two cents in as well. I already knew that they'd side with her. They'd probably call me a hypocrite for suggesting that Bella go to counseling when refusing to go myself. Well, Emmett would call me a hypocrite; Charlie would probably just think it.

On the outside looking in, that seemed like a logical judgment. But Bella's trauma was completely different than mine—Bella could probably be helped. She'd experienced one traumatic event, and it was very recent. Not to minimize the seriousness of what she'd gone through, but I'd witnessed truly horrific things, not once, but repeatedly throughout my tours of duty. No amount of talking to a shrink could erase that kind of fuckery from my head.

Emmett persisted, ignoring my silence. "You were pretty upset when we left the house. Did you two have a fight?"

"Something like that, but I'd rather not talk about it."

Charlie was his usual reserved self, not joining in the interrogation. I looked in the rearview mirror and saw that he was watching me. As soon as I looked away, he spoke up.

"Edward, just remember, whatever Bella said . . . she's just looking out for you. She wants you to be happy."

"I am happy, Charlie. How could I not be happy with Bella in my life?"

He chuckled, leaning forward and slapping me on the shoulder. "You got that right, my boy. You're a lucky son of a bitch to have a woman like Bella love you so much. Don't ever forget it."

I met his gaze in the mirror. "I won't forget. I can promise you that."

Minutes later, I pulled the car into the garage, feeling anxious to see my Bella. I regretted leaving without saying goodbye, but at the time, I'd felt nearly claustrophobic. I'd needed some fresh air and space to calm down after being cornered about therapy.

All of us had our arms full of lobsters and wine as we came through the garage door into the kitchen. I dropped everything onto the countertop and started putting the food into the refrigerator.

"What's all this?" Bella's voice was warmth and light, wafting across the room and wrapping me up in its goodness.

Smiling, I grabbed one of the lobsters from the refrigerator and turned around, holding it out to her.

She giggled, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "Oh my god, it's huge!"

_That's what she said. Or rather, that's what Bella said. _Yeah, I almost said that shit out loud but caught myself, remembering Charlie was in the room. I doubt he would think anything at all to do with _my_ dick and _his_ daughter was funny.

"Yes, it is, and it's all yours." I wiggled my eyebrows, hoping she'd catch the sexual innuendo, while counting on Charlie to miss it entirely.

Bella smiled, and when she bit at her bottom lip, I knew we were on the same wavelength. I smiled back at her, quickly setting the lobster in the fridge, and then I pulled her into my arms.

Charlie and Emmett abruptly walked out of the kitchen without a word. That was fine with me because I had some apologizing to do, and I'd rather do it without an audience. They must have figured as much.

Bella hugged me, wrapping her arms around my waist and rubbing my back. She pressed her cheek against my chest, holding me tightly.

"You're not upset with me?" I mumbled with my face nestled against her head, breathing in her scent.

She raised her head and looked up, her eyes soft and kind. "No, I thought you were upset with me."

"No, I just—"

"No? Um, you wouldn't have left the house without telling me if you weren't ticked off at me."

I moved my hands to cradle her beautiful face and looked into her eyes. "Bella, I am so fucking sorry. I should have told you I was leaving, but I—sometimes I feel like the walls are closing in on me. I just needed some time to calm down. I'm sorry." I tilted her head back slightly and leaned down, kissing her lips slowly and softly. I reluctantly pulled my mouth from hers, opening my eyes to see her smiling up at me.

"So going out and spending a small fortune on dinner chilled you out?" she asked, still grinning.

Laughing, I let her go and picked up the wine bottles from the counter. "Yeah, I guess you could say that. Cooking or shopping for a meal, picking out the best ingredients—it's always had a calming effect on me." I started toward the door to go to the bar in the living room. "I'm gonna put these in the wine cooler so they'll be ready for dinner."

"Edward?"

I stopped and looked back at her.

"I'm sorry, too," she said quietly.

She was sorry? She'd done nothing wrong. Yes, she'd pissed me off, pushing me to see a shrink, but I knew what Charlie said to me was true. Her intentions were good.

"Don't be—you didn't do anything wrong." With my arms still holding three wine bottles, I turned toward the living room, but then stopped, looking back at her once more. "I love you."

* * *

"Edward, I'd like to hire you as my personal chef," Alice mumbled, her eyes closed as she rubbed her full belly. She was leaned back on the sofa with her legs stretched out on the ottoman. "I'm going to have erotic dreams tonight about that meal."

"You're going to dream about a lobster instead of me?" Emmett pretend-pouted.

"Well, yeah, it was nearly orgasmic it was so delicious."

"_Nearly_ isn't close enough." Emmett put his arm around her, pulling her against his side. "I, on the other hand, made you multi-orgas—"

"Okay, well, thanks," I interrupted, surprised once again that Emmett has no fucking filter on his mouth. I glanced at Charlie and, sure enough, he looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here talking about orgasms. "I'm really glad you enjoyed dinner, Alice. So who's up for a movie?"

Bella pressed her face against my shoulder, trying to muffle her laugh. Regaining her composure, she looked up, a smile still on her face. "I agree with Alice—you should move in as our personal chef. It was amazing, but, oh . . . my . . . god, I am beyond stuffed."

I leaned down, kissing the tip of her nose. "That's because the lobster you ate was almost as big as you."

She giggled, playfully shoving me away. "So what movie did you rent?"

"Well, I took a gamble. I hope you're not opposed to foreign flicks?"

"No, not opposed, but I've never watched one before."

"Me neither, and I'm not going start now," Charlie interjected, standing up. "I think I'll turn in and watch TV in the guest room."

Bella teased him for not being open to some "culture and art" in the form of a foreign film. He thanked me for dinner and left, leaving the four of us stretched out on the sectional.

"It's an Italian movie called _Il Postino_." Pulling myself off the sofa, I went over to the entertainment center and held up the DVD cover for Bella and Alice to see. "Ever hear of it?"

They both shook their heads. "What's it about?" Alice asked.

"It's a fictional story of a friendship that forms between a simple postman and the real life poet Pablo Neruda. He helps the postman woo this woman he's in love with."

Bella's face lit up. "Pablo Neruda? Seriously? I just taught one of his poems when I was student teaching."

"Did you just say woo?" Emmett glared at me, his tone dripping with disgust. I ignored him.

"I love Neruda!" Alice squealed, clapping her hands. "I'm definitely in."

Emmett groaned louder than necessary. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

Alice snuggled up against him, running her hands through his hair. "Trust me. If Neruda's love poems are part of the movie, I'll be on a romantic high, which means good things for you later tonight."

"Start the movie, Edward," Emmett barked.

Chuckling, I put the DVD into the player and found a spot on the sofa, wrapping Bella in my arms.

As the opening credits played, Bella's hand caressed my jaw, pulling my face toward hers. With her mouth so close to mine I felt her breath on my lips, she whispered, "_I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where._ _I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;_ _So I love you because I know no other way than this."_

"Wow. What was that?"

"That's from one of Neruda's poems. I actually taught that poem to my class the day that my accident happened."

"You are shitting me!"

She grinned. "I know, right? I can't believe you picked out a movie about Neruda. And there's more. That poem I quoted? Well, it played a pivotal part in helping me decide to stop being afraid and to call you. I was going to call you that night. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know. And it's very good to know."

"Shhh! Zip the lips, you two," Alice hissed. "It's starting."

I ignored Alice as I pressed my lips to Bella's warm mouth. "I can hardly believe how much I love you," I whispered as the sounds of Italian drifted from the television. "Ti amo, my Bella."


	29. Are Black Diamonds Forever?

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. **

**A/N: Just a refresher on the timeline: this chapter occurs on Friday, May 18, 2007. Bella and Edward met in Europe a few of months before in February 2007.**

**A heartfelt thank you to my betas for seeing this thing through to the end: Pickwicksociety, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180.**

* * *

_**Chapter 29 – Are Black Diamonds Forever?**_

**~*~ **_**Bella**_** ~*~**

"Ah, Bella, darlin', that's not your best smile," Jasper chided, attempting to take yet another picture. "Show me how happy you are about graduating!"

"I can't help it, Jazz," I whined. "We've taken so many pictures my smile muscles are spasming." I wasn't exaggerating—my lips quivered as I pushed them up into another grin.

After an obscenely long commencement ceremony at Arizona State University, we'd gathered on the green lawn outside Gammage Auditorium to take pictures. Alice insisted we get pictures of every combination of the various people in our group: me with Charlie; me with Renee and Phil; me and Alice; me with Jasper and Angela; Alice with her parents; Alice with Emmett; Alice, Emmett, Edward and me; and the entire group together.

It had only been two weeks since the "incident," which is how I'd begun referring to the shooting, and my physical stamina was still not what it used to be. It would take time to regain my usual energy, the doctor had explained at my last appointment.

Finally, under Alice's direction, it was time for me to have some pictures taken with Edward. The tension in my face melted away when I felt Edward's large masculine hand envelop mine, his arm encompassing my shoulder and pressing me to his side. Tired smile muscles or not, I couldn't help but grin when I looked up at him.

"Well, hello, Miss Swan. Finally, I get you to myself."

"Yeah, I'm going to have to shut Alice down in a minute. She goes a little bananas when it comes to preserving memories."

"Eyes on the birdie, you two!" Jasper instructed.

We looked over at him and smiled until we heard the click of the camera, and then I let out a dramatic sigh. "I really want to get this thing off," I muttered to Edward, in between smiles for the camera. It was a beautiful, sunny day in the mid-eighties, but I was burning up under my burgundy cap and gown.

"I'd like you to take that off as well. It's hiding your lovely, blue dress and your even more beautiful body."

My face instantaneously melted into another genuine smile, and I heard Jasper snap several pictures.

Edward squeezed my waist, pulling me closer to his side and whispered in my ear, "Now that you're officially a teacher, I'm looking forward to indulging the teacher fantasy that I've had for a very long time." He looked very serious, his eyes seductively mischievous. "Can I be your student, Miss Swan?"

"You are so cruel, Mr. Cullen." I looked up at him, narrowing my eyes in an attempt to appear stern, but I knew the warm blush I felt on my cheeks would give me away. "You deny me every day, always citing doctor's orders, and then you say things like that?"

He shrugged, a pleased smirk creeping up at the corner of his mouth. "Well, the relationship experts always say how important communication is. I'm just letting you know what I want . . . in two more weeks, that is." He winked, grinning devilishly.

"That's it, Jasper. No more flippin' pictures," I hollered, turning to face Edward.

I slipped my hands under his suit jacket, gripping his hips. I'd never seen Edward dressed up before, and damn, could that man wear a suit. Dapper was the word that came to mind when he'd sauntered into the kitchen this morning dressed to kill, his hair still damp from his shower. Yes, he was dapper and effing gorgeous in his charcoal suit and light gray dress shirt. Without a tie, his button-down shirt was open just enough to tease me with a light sprinkling of chest hair. I gently dug my fingers into his back muscles and gazed longingly at the hair decorating his chest and collarbones, suddenly struck with the urge to lick said collarbone all the way up to his jaw.

Instead, I sighed, looking into his eyes. "Well, in the name of communication, I have a fantasy of my own. It involves you wearing Army fatigues—pants only, thank you—with dog tags around your neck and combat boots on your feet."

Edward's eyes went wide, and he pulled me flush against his body. "That doesn't have to be a fantasy, you know. Once I'm active duty again, it will be reality—a regular occurrence." He smiled and then kissed me softly. "Any time . . . _all_ the time."

"Well, probably not all the time . . . if you're in Iraq," I said softly.

The playfulness in his eyes drained away, and he just stared at me. I held his gaze, already regretting having said it. But it was true and was the first thing that popped into my mind.

"I know," he mumbled, touching his forehead to mine. "But I won't be leaving right away, baby. It'll take some time to get my orders." He pulled back and looked at me, his eyes questioning. He looked vulnerable and—almost scared.

"Yeah, okay," I whispered, pressing my lips to his reassuringly.

* * *

"Edward, I can't believe you did this." I twisted around in my chair, taking in the elegantly posh surroundings of the restaurant where he'd made reservations.

"It's too much," I whispered to him as I eyed the massive crystal chandelier hanging from an ornate octagonal ceiling bordered by skylights.

"Shush. Nothing but the best for you," he said quietly, kissing my cheek. "This is a big deal, Bella. You're a college graduate, so let's celebrate."

Edward had informed me this morning that he'd made arrangements to treat everyone to dinner following the graduation ceremony. I'd told him he shouldn't feel that he had to foot the entire bill, but I hadn't pushed the issue too much, figuring we were probably going to a run-of-the-mill, moderately priced restaurant—like normal people do, or at least normal for people like me.

He'd refused to tell me the name of the restaurant, so I didn't know until we'd driven up to The Phoenician Resort that he'd chosen Mary Elaine's, one of the most expensive and renowned restaurants in the city. I couldn't help but appreciate the fact that Mary Elaine's was a French restaurant, considering Edward and I had met in Paris. It seemed fitting—but still too damned expensive.

My fingers splayed over the crisp white tablecloth while my eyes continued taking in the décor. Crown molding bordered every edge while neutral beiges, whites, and creams lent a subtle elegance to the large dining room.

"Miss." I turned away from Edward to see the host set a small footstool type of thing next to my chair. "For your purse."

It took a moment for it to register in my middle-class brain what the hell he was talking about. "Oh! Oh, okay, thank you," I stuttered, picking my purse up from the floor and setting it on the cushioned stool. I looked at Edward incredulously, my eyebrows arched. He smiled, chuckling softly as he opened his menu.

"Oh, how cute. Thank you, sir," Alice said excitedly when the host offered her a similar stool for her own purse. I grinned at her, shaking my head in disbelief. I guess the French don't mess around with their handbags, providing them with their own seats at the table.

Taking a much needed drink of ice water after standing in the sun for Alice's photo op, I opened the menu. My stomach rumbled its approval, but I felt my eyebrows involuntarily raise and my eyes bug out after perusing it for just a few seconds. Most entrees were fifty bucks each, without an appetizer or a drink. I quickly calculated that the bill would probably be around $700, possibly more if any in our group of twelve decided to imbibe, which was probable. I conspicuously glanced at Edward, looking for similar signs of horror at the prices, but he appeared rather relaxed. His eyes roamed over the menu, his teasingly full lips pursed.

Why would he bring us to the most expensive restaurant he could possibly choose? I returned my gaze to my menu, deciding that we were going to have a little chat later today. I needed to know whether I was in a relationship with a financially irresponsible man, perhaps using a credit card to pay for an unnecessarily ostentatious dinner, or with a man who had excess money at his disposal. I had a feeling it was the latter based on his previous VP job with his family's company and the fact that he'd bummed around Europe for a month, which definitely costs money.

"That view is spectacular," Angela said dreamily, gazing at the floor-to-ceiling windows spanning the entire length of the restaurant. Ben smiled down at her as he rested his arm around the top of her chair. Their initial contentious interactions had finally revealed an intense attraction underneath. She'd told me they'd gotten very serious, very quickly.

Angela wasn't exaggerating about the awe-inspiring view. The windows held a panoramic scene of the entire valley at dusk. Various shades of oranges and pinks swirled across the horizon, accented with dark silhouettes of buildings, palm trees, and Saguaro cacti.

"Oh, yes, it's beautiful," Renee agreed. "I remember how surprised I was when Phil brought me here for our anniversary last year." Mom smiled sweetly at her husband, resting her hand on his arm before looking at Edward. "Wonderful choice, Edward."

"Thanks, Renee. Only the best to celebrate Bella's and Alice's graduation. It's a big accomplishment."

"Yes, I was quite pleased to hear we were meeting at Mary Elaine's," Mrs. Brandon added, tucking an errant strand of dark hair behind her ear that had fallen from her elegant chignon. "We come here several times a year, and it's never been less than exquisite."

Edward had wanted Alice and Emmett to celebrate with us today, so he'd suggested that we invite Alice's parents to join us. They were nice enough people—after all, they allowed me to live in their house with Alice rent-free—but I really didn't know them very well.

Two glasses of champagne and a melt-in-the-mouth lamb loin later, I was feeling wonderfully satiated and just so damn happy. The only worrisome blip on my radar screen was the always present concern about my little brother, Seth.

I drained the last of my champagne, making a mental note to visit him at the county jail as soon as my dad went back to Forks. Charlie had been less than approving of my desire to see Seth. Of course, I was angry with him, too. His actions had indirectly almost cost me my life—of course, I was pissed at him. I wanted to scream at him for betraying me like that, for breaking into my house and putting my and Alice's' lives at risk. I hoped that perhaps that horrible event might have been rock bottom for him. Would it be the wake-up call he needed to face his addiction head-on and get some help? I definitely needed to see him—I had a freaking lot to say.

"Would you like some dessert?" Emmett asked, looking at Alice like a lovesick puppy. Anybody with eyes could see he was gaga over her. I glanced at Jasper. He wasn't looking at them, fortunately. His eyes were trained on finishing the last bit of food on his plate. I hadn't had much opportunity to talk to Jasper privately. I should do that soon, to see how he was holding up. I sighed, my heart empathizing with how much it must suck for him to have to sit across from his ex and her new lover.

"Oh, I wish I could, but I'm at maximum capacity." Alice patted her belly, softly groaning as she gazed up at Emmett.

"All right. Well, would you like some presents instead?" Em looked so excited; you'd think he was the one getting the gifts.

Alice giggled, clasping her hands tightly in front of her. "Oh, I always have room for presents."

Edward raised a finger in the air as he nodded at the waiter who was standing at attention nearby. He hurried over, and Edward whispered something to him before he quickly left the dining room.

Edward's hand floated down to rest on my upper thigh. "Presents are on the way," he said with a smile, looking at Alice.

"It feels like Christmas, huh, Bells?" Alice downed the last of the champagne in her glass, smiling giddily.

I grinned, but before I could answer, the waiter reappeared. He pushed a cart draped with a white table cloth that held multiple boxes all wrapped in a kaleidoscope of colors. I knew my dad and Edward had brought presents to the restaurant, but I had no idea that others had as well. Maybe most of them were for Alice; her rich parents might have gone crazy buying her graduation gifts.

Alice gasped, her eyes wide as she took in the bounty on the cart. "Holy wow! Maybe I'll go for my Master's Degree if I'll get presents and a five-star restaurant again." Everyone chuckled.

After the waiter cleared away the dishes, my dad reached over and picked up a gift from the table. "This is for you, sweetheart. I hope you like it."

"Of course, I'll like it." I carefully slid my finger along the seam, breaking the tape. I didn't want to go crazy ripping paper in such an elegant, quiet restaurant.

I pulled a book out of the box. It wasn't just any book—it was a beautiful, leather-bound copy of _Great Expectations_ by Charles Dickens. My eyes pricked with tears, realizing my dad had remembered that he's one of my favorite authors. My hands reverently ran over the smooth leather. "Oh, my, god. Wow. I love it, Dad!"

I jumped up, walking around the table to him. I leaned over and hugged him tightly. "Thank you so much. It's amazing."

Dad chuckled, patting my back. "That's a relief. It's not the easiest thing to figure out the right gift for such an important accomplishment. I'm really proud of you, Isabella."

I snorted, smiling. Dad only used my full name if he was upset with me or feeling emotional and sentimental—two opposite extremes. I quickly settled back in my chair beside Edward.

"I'm impressed, Charlie." Edward turned the pages of the book that rested on my lap. "Did you figure this one out all by yourself?" His tone was playful. I glanced up to see that delicious smirk of his as he looked at my dad.

"Yes, I did, and I'm pretty impressed with myself actually."

"It's Alice's turn," Emmett interjected. He sat a large box on the table in front of her. It was wrapped so beautifully I almost didn't want Alice to tear into it. Clearly, Emmett had paid for the professionals to wrap it.

"From you?" Alice asked demurely, looking up at him through her lashes.

He nodded, a soft smile on his lips.

A minute later, she held a red leather attaché case with her initials etched into a silver plate on the side. It was stunning. Emmett apparently knew her pretty well already. Red was not only her favorite color, but it fit her personality. She was not a dull brown attaché case kind of gal, and Emmett knew that.

She'd barely pulled it from the box when she twisted in her chair, wrapping her arms around his neck. "It's perfect. I love it, Em. Thank you so much." Emmett held her tightly, a giant grin plastered on his face.

Fifteen minutes later all the presents had been opened except for one small box that still sat conspicuously on the cart. Angela had given me a gift card to Barnes and Noble. She knew me well; I could spend all day in that store. Mom and Phil had given me a nice graduation card filled with three, crisp hundred dollar bills. Jasper had chosen the same gift for both Alice and me: a coffee mug and t-shirt that said "Live, Love,Teach." Edward had given me a book of Pablo Neruda's poems. Between teaching the sonnet that inspired me to look at things differently to watching_ Il Postino_ with Edward a few days ago, it seemed that Neruda's poetry had become an important part of our relationship. It was a meaningful gift.

Alice had squealed inappropriately, drawing stares from others in the dining room when she'd opened a card from her parents and found a voucher for an all-expenses paid trip for four to Las Vegas. Alice immediately informed me, Edward, and Emmett that we'd all be going to Vegas this summer. I was pretty psyched about it, especially since it wouldn't cost me anything except incidentals. And I knew how well our foursome had traveled together in Europe, but to do Vegas together? It was going to be so flipping fun! We'd have to go soon though because Edward had to report for duty in two months. Before that thought had time to deflate my blissful mood, Edward held the small, solitary gift in front of me that had been left on the cart.

My heart pitter-pattered in my chest, wondering what could possibly be in such a tiny box. "What's this?" I smiled at him. "You already gave me something."

"You didn't really think all I got you was a book, did you?" His brows crinkled, and he looked genuinely distressed at the thought.

"Um . . . well, yes? It was an awesome present. I love that book."

Edward shook his head, chuckling. "Open it, please," he said softly, resting his hand on my shoulder and tracing circles with his thumb.

I tore off the paper and gently removed the lid from the small, white box._ Oh, my._ Inside the box sat a smaller, blue velvet box. Velvet boxes meant only one thing—jewelry. I gingerly picked it up, stroking the soft velvet between my fingers. _Oh, my, oh, fucking my. _It couldn't be. Could it?

My pitter-pattering heart was now thundering in my chest like Secretariat in the last race of the Triple Crown. The silence in the room became deafening, and I glanced up to see everyone at the table looking at me way too seriously. No . . . no way. He wouldn't do this here, like this, with an audience, would he? And it was too soon, right? Yes, it was definitely way too soon.

"Open it already! The anticipation is killing us here," Alice playfully coaxed.

"Edward?" My voice came out all whispery and crackling, likely from the lack of saliva in my mouth, sucked away by my anxiety.

"What's the matter?" His familiar crooked smile appeared as he gently took the velvet treasure from my trembling hands. He held it so that it faced me and quickly opened the hinged lid, revealing the unexpected.

"Edward!" My hands flew involuntarily to my mouth, covering my open-mouthed gasp. "It's . . . ohh . . . god! Edward, it's _so_ beautiful."

My eyes darted away from the gift to see his perfect face all lit up, his mouth in a full-on smile and his eyes wide and lively. Silently, yet still beaming a grin as big as mine, he removed the necklace from the box and stood up. With the silver chain dangling from his fingers as he stepped behind me, the jewels sparkled, eliciting a multitude of comments from the peanut gallery. I heard everything from gasps to comments about how stunning it was to Jasper's quiet but distinctive "mother of fuck" exclamation. I gathered my hair in my hands, pulling it to the side.

"It's so unusual. Where did you find it?" Alice blurted out, breaking the silence.

"I had it sent over from London," Edward explained as he secured the jewel-encrusted swan pendant around my neck.

His intoxicating, velvet voice wafted over me from behind, his soothing tone and cadence warming me from the inside out like my favorite steaming caramel latte. He was my like my own personal Edward Latte. Or Edwardian Latte. Latte-ward? I was pretty sure I was hopelessly addicted to Latte-ward.

I giggled inwardly at my silliness, tilting my head back so I could see the beautiful man standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders. He leaned down, his eyes locked on mine, until his lips settled gently over my mouth. He kissed me chastely but oh-so-slowly that I felt it down to my toes and back up again where it settled right between my legs. _Oh, my. _He pulled away and gazed at me. "I love you," he whispered.

I reached up, placing my hand on his neck and pulled his face back to mine, kissing him once more. "I love _you_. It's too much, you know," I whispered, touching my fingers to the diamonds around my neck, "but I adore it. Thank you."

He sat back down next to me, taking my hand in his and resting them on his leg.

"What kind of stone is in that, Edward? Onyx?" Angela asked.

"No, they're black diamonds set in sterling silver."

"Black diamonds!" Alice repeated dramatically. With a snort, she laughed loudly. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Alice, language!" Mr. Brandon scolded.

_Black diamonds? _Holy crap! That just _sounded_ outrageously expensive. I was grateful, and I was touched that he'd give me something so beautiful and so meaningful, but how the hell could he afford all of this?

"Excuse me, but would anyone like an after-dinner cappuccino or espresso?" The waiter stood to the side of the table awaiting an answer.

"Everyone, feel free to order something." Edward turned his watch around, squinting at it. "I think we'd better pass on the coffee though." He glanced at me and then Charlie. "We've got to head to the airport soon."

Dad was flying back to Washington tonight. His luggage was in the car, so that we could drop him at the airport on the way home. I'd really enjoyed having him around, but if I was honest, I was looking forward to more fully enjoying Edward without a fatherly presence.

Angela, Mr. and Mrs. Brandon, and Renee all ordered cappuccinos. I was insanely jealous. "That's too bad." I sighed. "I'd bet a place like this has some ridiculously great coffee."

"I'm sorry, little swan," Edward said quietly, leaning in close so only I could hear. "I'll bring you back here anytime you want, okay?"

My eyebrows shot up. What did that mean? That my Edward has money growing on trees? That he's planning on staying in Phoenix long-term? Before I could get my brain in gear and articulate a reply, Dad spoke up.

"Speaking of the airport, when are you boys going to head back to Seattle?" He looked at Edward and then over at Emmett.

_Good question, Dad. _Edward and I hadn't talked at all about how long he'd be able to stay in Phoenix. I looked at him, very curious as to how he'd answer. I was perplexed to see that he looked about as uncomfortable as I'd ever seen him. His eyes darted from my dad over to Emmett and then to me before settling on the linen napkin being twisted around his fingers.

Everyone quietly waited for one of them to say something. Emmett and Alice huddled together, whispering conspiratorially.

Finally, Emmett cleared his throat, looking around the table. "We were planning on talking to both of you about this real soon." His eyes held mine briefly before looking at Edward. "But since it's come up . . . um, I've decided that I'm not going back to Seattle."

_What the hey?_ I looked at Alice, offering her a big smile because I really was so happy to hear this. Those two were amazing together; they shouldn't be in two different cities. Not to mention, I adored Emmett myself and would love having him around as my friend.

"Well, not to stay anyway," Alice clarified, her voice calm but clearly happy. "He's going to go back in a few days to pack his things so he can move here permanently."

Mrs. Brandon sat her coffee cup down with a clang. "What about your work, Emmett? What is it that you do again?"

"I'm a freelance writer, ma'am. I can work from anywhere." Unflinchingly, he held her gaze and smiled big enough to flash her those damned dimples of his.

Mrs. Brandon nodded approvingly. "Well, that sounds wonderful, you two." Yeah, the dimples worked every time.

"It'll be nice to be able to get to know you better, Emmett," Mr. Brandon added.

"Excuse me for a moment, please," Jasper mumbled, his eyes cast downward as he scooted out his chair. He was halfway across the dining room before I had a chance to say anything. Not that there was anything I could say in front of everyone. As I was contemplating going after Jasper, my dad continued his line of questioning.

"Okay, then, so Emmett's staying. What about you, Edward? Are you going back to Seattle?" Charlie sat back in his chair, crossing his arms across his chest.

I stared intently at Edward, willing him to say the words I wanted to hear. At one time, before I'd foolishly walked out of his life, he'd said that he wanted to move to Phoenix to be with me as much as possible before deploying. I hoped that he still wanted that. I was pretty sure he did, but I didn't know it without a doubt.

Edward slowly looked up, meeting Charlie's stare. "I'm not quite sure, sir," he finally answered, his voice subdued.

I felt my jaw literally drop open. He wasn't sure. He wasn't sure if he was going to stay with me. How could he not be sure after everything we'd been through together? What about the things he'd said to me? The way he always looked at me? What about the freaking black diamonds around my neck? I thought diamonds were forever—isn't that the jingle? _Forever_ diamonds seemed pretty _sure_ to me.

I stared at Edward, still slack-jawed, but he kept his eyes on everything and everyone at the table except me. I looked over at Alice, needing the comfort of my best friend. She gave me a sad, empathetic smile.

How had I gone from the high of having my prince drape diamonds around my neck to the low of uncertainty, realizing that my prince wasn't sure about me after all?

* * *

**A/N: You can find pictures, including one of Bella's swan pendant, at one of the following sites:**

_**Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. **_

_**For photos, story PDF/MOBI files, and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL – /groups/281151482005898/**_

_**Then request to be added to the group. **_


	30. Reunited and It Feels So Good

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. **

**A/N: Pickwicksociety, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180 are probably wondering when will they ever be done beta'ing TIWBG. They are loyal and fabulous, and I'm lucky to have them!**

* * *

_**Chapter 30 - Reunited and It Feels So Good**_

**~*~ **_**Edward**_** ~*~**

"You're not sure?" Bella said, her tone reticent as I closed the bedroom door behind us.

We'd dropped Charlie off at the airport after leaving Mary Elaine's Restaurant. Filling the fifteen minute drive home with small talk, we'd ignored the serious conversation we knew was inevitable.

"What?" I dropped Bella's graduation gifts onto the lazy chair and turned around.

"You told my dad you aren't sure if you're going back to Seattle or staying here." She stood beside the bed, staring at me. Her fingers trailed across the swan pendant around her neck. "I'm confused. I mean, I—"

She looked down at the floor, her fingers still playing with her necklace as she bit at her lower lip. "These diamonds seem pretty sure."

My jaw dropped—she'd misunderstood. She thought I was unsure about my feelings for her when the reality was that I was uncertain about _her_ feelings about our future. I was gun shy, I guess, worrying that if I asked for too much, the fears that sent her running from me in London would resurface. But it hadn't occurred to me that she would question my commitment to her.

"Oh, I'm _sure, _Bella_. _I'm _very_ sure about what I feel for you. I just didn't want to assume anything. We haven't talked about how the next few months are going to unfold, and the last time I just assumed and made plans . . . well, you—" I pulled at my hair, my words trailing off. I didn't want to bring it up again and make her feel guilty. I understood why she'd left me, but that didn't mean it no longer affected me.

"I know," she said regretfully. "I left you."

She quickly closed the space between us, taking my hands tightly into hers. "If I live to be 108 years old and tell you how sorry I am every day, it won't be enough to express my regret." Her voice quivered and cracked as she choked back tears. "In London you said you were going to move here to be with me. I hope you're still willing to do that. Or I'll move to Seattle—I don't really care. I just want to be wherever you are."

A loud laugh escaped me, releasing all the worry that had gripped me since leaving the restaurant. "Thank fuck!" I took my hands from hers and pulled her body against mine, wrapping her in a tight embrace. She clung to me, her head against my chest and her hands running up and down my back.

After a moment, I leaned back and lifted her chin up. "I want that, too," I whispered, looking into her warm, brown eyes and kissing her softly. "Nothing has changed since London, except that I love you even more than I did then."

"Edward." Bella's tone was breathy, and never had I appreciated the sound of my name so much. Her sweet voice swathed my name with love, while clearly exuding a heavy dose of relief. I hated that my evasiveness at the restaurant had led to her doubting the depth of my feelings for her.

Tangling her fingers in my hair, she pulled my head down, her open mouth connecting with mine. I craved her scent, her skin against mine, her taste on my tongue, and the completeness of being inside of her. It had been much too fucking long since that had happened because of doctor's orders, and we still had another week of abstinence to go. But the way she was nibbling on my lip and—_oh, fuck_. Her hand palmed my erection through my jeans, and I couldn't think anymore. Throwing my head back, I clamped my eyes shut, groaning and reveling in the sensation of Bella's hand on my throbbing dick.

"Unzip me," she ordered. Startled by her nearly frantic voice, I opened my eyes. She stood with her back to me, holding her long brown hair on top of her head. She didn't have to tell me twice.

Eagerly, I unzipped her blue dress, sucking in a breath at the sight of her dark blue bra and panties that contrasted strikingly against her pale, porcelain skin. As the dress dropped to the floor, she dropped her hair as well, releasing a faint waft of coconut. I wanted to devour her.

"Fucking hell," I mumbled, shrugging out of my suit jacket and toeing off my shoes.

Bella turned around, a seductive smile on her lips. I swallowed thickly, completely riveted to the vision in front of me—brunette waves cascading over creamy skin, blue satin and beautiful breasts, and some sexy as fuck high heels. How could her legs be that fucking long when she's so petite? I wanted those gorgeous legs wrapped around me right fucking now. Even if we couldn't have sex, I needed to be as close to her possible.

With my eyes still fixed on her, I unbuckled my belt, pulling it out of the loops in one quick action. Flinging it to the floor, I lunged, gripping Bella's thighs and picking her up. Gasping, she lifted her legs and wound them behind my back.

With her hands cradling my jaw, she kissed me hard, thrusting her tongue into my mouth. I moaned shamelessly, the sensation of her warm, wet mouth nearly bringing me to my knees. With lips smacking and teeth clanking, my hands roamed roughly down her back and over her voluptuous ass, mirroring the desperate desire I was struggling to contain.

"Make love to me," she whispered against my lips.

"Oh, baby, you're killing me." I buried my face in her neck, kissing my way back to her mouth. "You know we can't."

She ran her fingernails down my back while peppering kisses along my jaw. "What difference is a week going to make?"

"A lot of healing can happen in a week."

Her lips slowed. Pulling back, she looked at me. "Just . . . make love to me slowly, okay? I won't even come, so you don't have to worry about my blood pressure getting too high or busting any stitches." She giggled.

"Bella," I whispered, groaning my frustration as I rested my forehead against hers. "I just . . . I don't think—"

"_Please_ . . . I need to feel you inside me. I love you so fucking much. I need—"

Quieting her pleas with a searing kiss, I found my way to the bed with her body still wrapped around mine.

I pride myself on possessing a high level of self-control in most areas of my life. But mother of fuck if I could reject the love of my life, looking at me with her sexy brown eyes, literally begging me to make love to her. It was too much, and not because I was a horny bastard and just wanted to get off. She'd been taking care of me lately with that sweet mouth of hers, so it wasn't about the physical gratification. It was about the intimacy, the indescribable connection I'd felt every time we'd had sex. I couldn't listen to the woman I worshiped, pleading for that intimacy and deny her.

I laid her on the bed, straddling her as I leaned down on my elbows and covered her lips with mine. She blindly unbuttoned my shirt, and with our mouths still connected, I unzipped my pants with one hand while supporting my weight with the other. No sooner had I done so, than her hands tugged my slacks down around my thighs, my cock bobbing in anticipation. I smiled against her mouth, really fucking turned on to know that she wanted me just as much as I wanted her.

I pulled away and rose up, quickly stepping out of my slacks. "Sexy," I whispered, smiling at her. She beamed, holding my gaze as she splayed her arms overhead and pulled her legs up and open, her heels digging into the mattress. She probably had no idea she'd just created the sexiest pose I'd ever seen. She was a vision.

Bending down, I slowly pulled her blue satin panties down her gorgeous legs and over her fuck-me-heels. Nearly salivating in anticipation of tasting her, I dropped to my knees on the floor as my hands ran up her legs, spreading them further open.

"No, baby, I just want _you_." Bella sat up, resting on her elbows. "I'm already so wet for you." Her tone was raspy and commanding as she tugged on my forearm. "Come here."

As much as I wanted to bury my head between her legs, I ached to be inside her even more, so I eagerly obliged. As I crawled up the length of her body, my eyes met hers, and I was overwhelmed by the emotion and love radiating from them. Hovering over her, I clasped her hands that still rested above her head, interlacing our fingers.

Her eyes blazed with lust as I slowly lowered my upper body until my mouth found hers. "Edward," she moaned, her velvet tongue moving languidly along my lower lip. I deepened the kiss, slowly and deliberately.

Bella's legs wrapped around my ass and tried to pull me closer, so I blindly positioned myself between her thighs, unwilling to lose the unearthly bliss that was her mouth on mine. When my tip found her opening, I teased it a bit. "Oh, fuck, baby. You _are_ wet for me."

"Please, Edward."

Immediately, I pushed inside her in one slow but firm motion. "Ungh, oh, Bella. You feel so . . . _oh, fuck_ . . . so amazing."

She whimpered in response, her eyes fluttering half-shut. I pulled away, lifting her legs onto my shoulders and began moving inside her. Leaning back over her and resting my weight on my forearms, I buried my face in the curve of her neck, kissing and sucking her silky skin.

"Oh, yes! Oh, god, you feel so fucking good." She gripped my head, twisting her fingers in my hair while pulling me from her neck up to her mouth.

Our lips were desperate moving together, as if we couldn't get close enough to extinguish the desire coursing through us. I pulled out completely, entering her again ever so slowly so we could relish the sensation of our coming together.

"You're heaven," I mumbled between kisses, gliding in and out of her with slow precision.

Pulling out, I sat back on my thighs and quickly moved her legs from my shoulders, twisting her body so she lay on her left side. I pushed her right knee up to a 45 degree angle, both of us groaning out expletives as I filled her once again. I began a frenzied pace as I held her ankle up, the position providing deeper penetration. Gasping and grunting noises broke through the silence in the room, the reverberation of our lovemaking titillating my senses.

Bella kept her head turned, her hair beginning to dampen with perspiration and her eyes smoldering as she stared at me. I held her gaze as I thrust into her over and over again, hard and fast. I couldn't look away from her, and that was, in fact, astounding to me. With every other woman I'd been with, I couldn't look away from their eyes fast enough while fucking them. With Tanya, even though I'd loved her, one of us would get uncomfortable and break eye contact after a few seconds. I could never bear the gaze—it was too intimate.

But the energy flowing between us as I moved inside my Bella, eyes looking into eyes, was a peaceful yet invigorating high I'd never before experienced. I wasn't a religious person, but it felt almost—spiritual? Like arriving at a place that felt like home—a place I hadn't even known I'd left.

Suddenly Bella cried out, her hands flying up wildly and gripping my arms. Her body tensed and tightened, her walls spasming around my cock as her orgasm rippled through her body. "Edward!"

I lowered her leg to the bed and gripped her hips, thrusting hard and swiveling my pelvis on the down stroke. Still looking into her eyes, my own release exploded unexpectedly. Wordless, I growled and moaned as I emptied into her.

Lifting her leg up and around me, I settled myself between them and lay on top of her, covering her body with mine. With both of us damp with our exertion, her soft breasts slid erotically against my chest. I kissed her repeatedly and softly, waiting for my heart rate to lower so I could catch my breath.

"I never knew this existed," I mumbled, my lips ghosting over her eyes, her cheeks, and back to her mouth.

"I know." She gasped a quick breath as her lips slid over mine again. "God, I know."

"I love you, Bella."

"I love you so much, Edward."

Reluctantly but concerned my weight on her was too much, I pulled out and rolled onto my back, moving her against my side. Sighing, I closed my eyes, basking in our love and post-orgasm bliss.

Making love to Bella was like drinking from the fountain of life after roaming aimlessly through a bleak desert. The funny thing was I hadn't even known I'd been living in a barren wilderness until she came along. I would do just about anything to be with her, to protect what I'd found with her. Having taken 28 years to find it, logic would dictate that this kind of connection and love didn't come along every day.

Suddenly, my eyes popped open and I sat up on my elbows. "Wait a minute. You said you wouldn't come—doctor's orders. You weren't supposed to come."

Bella laughed hard and loud—like she was watching a Jim Carrey movie or something. What the hell? "What?" I mumbled, warily.

She kissed me softly, a smile on her lips. "Did you know they took the world gullible out of the dictionary?"

Our gazes locked for a few seconds as I processed what she was trying to tell me. "You conned me?"

Bella shrugged, a satisfied smile still sitting smugly on her lips. She gently nudged me to lie back down, draping her leg over my very happy dick and resting her cheek on my chest.

"I can't believe you really thought I could hold back an orgasm with my favorite cock inside me. Clearly, you don't realize how ridiculously attracted I am to you, and you obviously underestimate your mad sex skills. Not to mention the fact that I love you so damn much."

"How the hell am I supposed to be mad that you lied to me when you say shit like that?"

"Exactly," she said contentedly, stifling another giggle.

I laughed, scooping her into my arms and thrusting my tongue into her mouth, kissing her wildly and intensely, just the way I loved her. "I fucking adore you."


	31. Peace in Prana

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. **

**A/N: **B**ig, wet kisses of thanks to my betas, Pickwicksociety, GuitarGirl, and Mel/mcc101180, for their patience and loyalty to TIWBG. **

* * *

**Chapter 31 – Peace in Prana**

**~*~ **_**Bella**_** ~*~**

My thigh muscles were on fire, my legs vibrating and shaking like a newborn calf standing for the first time. I feared I might literally fall out of the Warrior One pose and onto my ass.

"Don't forget your breathing," our yoga teacher, Shosh, gently reminded us. "Breathe in, three, breathe out, four."

A bead of sweat trickled down between my breasts. Breathing in through my nose like I'd been instructed, I glanced at Alice. She was holding the torturous position, seemingly without much effort. Digging deep for strength, again I concentrated on my breathing and focused on my reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. Shosh had told me that everyone is at a different level of their practice and anytime I needed to rest, I should move into the restful child's pose. Hell if I was going to be the only one to wimp out by coming out of this wretched pose too soon.

"Hands down and move into plank position. Now take your vinyasa, and we'll all meet together in downward dog." Shosh's voice was soothing; she emanated the calm that I'd come here seeking.

Taking up yoga had been my therapist's brilliant idea. Riley had insisted that yoga and meditation would help me with my nightmares and anxiety over what had happened to me. He'd also mentioned exposure therapy, indicating that we'd start that course of treatment at our next session. I knew a little about exposure therapy because of the research I'd done on PTSD back in England when I'd been trying to figure out Edward. I'd never imagined that I'd one day be diagnosed with the same thing. It's still so surreal—I can barely wrap my mind around the fact that someone broke into my home and shot me. With that lone thought, anxiety began bubbling up inside my chest. Quickly, I distracted myself, concentrating on my breathing instead of on my memories of that night. Maybe there was something to this yoga thing

"Pssst."

With my arms straining to hold my weight and my ass up in the air, higher than I ever thought it could go, I peeked around my arm at Alice. "What?"

"This pose makes me think really dirty thoughts," she whispered, her lips curling up in a wicked grin. "Downward Dog should be called Dip-It-In Dog."

I returned my focus to my mat, barely managing to quell a giggle-snort. Taking a deep breath to regain my composure, I glanced at Alice again. "I think this pose lends itself to more than a dip. It's more like Deep Delivery Dog."

Alice mashed her lips together, her face turning red with exertion from holding the pose and containing her laughter. "The triple D," she whispered. "Guess what I'm gonna be doing tonight?"

"Now move to plank position," Shosh instructed, interrupting our irreverent ramblings.

* * *

Pushing the refrigerator door closed, I chugged from the cold water bottle. Who knew twisting my body in odd positions would be so taxing. I tossed the empty bottle in the recycle bin before heading to the bathroom for a shower. I'd have just enough time to get ready for my first official date with Edward. We had explored ancient, romantic European cities together, but we'd never enjoyed a simple thing like going to see a movie. I felt as giddy as a teenager anticipating our very first date.

I picked up my yoga mat from the sofa as I passed through the living room. In my bedroom, I tossed the mat into my closet, stripped out of my black yoga pants and top, and slipped into my silky blue robe. I glanced at the clock, anxious for Edward to get home. Yes, I missed him already—ridiculous but true.

I wished Edward would share with me what it's been like for him being around the veterans at the V.A. hospital. He'd been volunteering there nearly every day for the past week, usually staying for a few hours, but gave me only one word answers whenever I asked him about it.

I'd been surprised but pleased when he'd told me he wanted to volunteer there. It was something worthwhile to keep him occupied until he had to report to Ft. Hood in Texas, a fact that I made a conscious effort to bury in the deepest recesses of my mind. I'd told him that he could use my car to get around, but he'd insisted that he didn't want to be an imposition—as if that were even possible.

The day after we'd talked about his decision to volunteer at the hospital, he'd had me take him to rent a car to use for the next couple of months. When he'd picked out a Volvo hatchback, it became uncomfortably clear to me that I didn't know him very well at all. He was wealthy and Hollywood handsome. Didn't people like that drive flashy cars that match their sexy selves?

"Edward, it looks sort of . . . station wagonish?" Standing in the rental car parking lot, I'd stared at the silver hatchback, feeling rather uninspired by it.

He shrugged. "It's one of the safest and most reliable vehicles available." Stepping behind me, his hands found my hips, pulling my ass flush against him. "I don't believe I need to compensate for the lack of something by driving around an ostentatious car, do I?" He subtly pushed himself against me, enough to feel his semi against my ass cheeks. My breath caught. Before I could answer, his hands moved from my hips and wrapped around my chest, holding me tightly as he planted a soft kiss on my neck.

I wanted to dish it back, to play coy and act as though he hadn't affected me—that he wasn't all _that_. But _fuck_—he was all that and more because my legs were shaking, much like they had in those torturous yoga poses. "Touché, baby. I can't argue with that."

I was pleased when we'd found out he couldn't rent the Volvo right away. It had just been returned and needed to be cleaned and inspected first. I just wanted to get the hell out of there and back home so that I could remind myself of why he didn't need to compensate for the lack of anything. After Edward's public seduction, I'd envisioned him bending me over the Volvo and fucking me hard.

On the drive home, I hadn't been able to stop staring at the bulge in his jeans. Or the undulation of his contoured biceps as his arms turned the steering wheel. We didn't talk. He drove, and I stared. The sexual tension bouncing amongst the silence was overpowering.

After a few minutes, I could no longer ignore the impulse to touch him. And within a minute after stroking his hardness through his jeans, Edward had screeched into a grocery store parking lot, coming to an abrupt stop at the far end of the lot. Faster than humanly possible, he'd launched out of the driver's seat, opened the back door and jumped in, immediately unzipping his jeans. He pulled them down, his beautiful cock springing free.

"Oh, god," I mumbled dumbly.

Leaning forward, he grabbed my arms and pulled my body over the console. His mouth was ravenous the moment it was on mine. We kissed crazily as I blindly yanked my shorts off and quickly straddled him. His fingers squeezed my hips, slamming me down onto his erection. We both moaned and cursed incoherently, already dripping with sweat. It was May in Phoenix, which meant that it was ninety-plus degrees, and the freaking windows were closed. Fortunately, we both were so turned on we came together quickly, before inducing heat stroke.

Alice's high-pitched laughter jolted me from my lusty memory. Curious as to what was going on, I left my bedroom and stopped just outside of the guest bedroom. Alice had turned it into a home office for Emmett so he could do his freelance writing in a quiet space. But those two were anything but quiet right now.

Emmett sat in his office chair with Alice perched on his lap, straddling him much like I had Edward in the car that day. While Em tickled her ribs and nibbled at her neck, Alice squirmed and shrieked with laughter.

"Tell me or the tickle torture will continue indefinitely," Emmett threatened.

They were so freaking cute; I couldn't help but laugh out loud along with them. They both looked up at me standing in the doorway, Alice panting heavily with a lovesick grin on her face.

"Spill, Bella." Emmett pulled Alice closer to him. "What's a triple D?"

I pantomimed zipping my lips and throwing away the key. "Hoes before bros, brother."

Giving me a death glare, he turned and planted a quick kiss on Alice. "Fine, Sunshine—you win! I have no idea what a triple D is, but I'm in."

"You got that right—you're going to be waaayy in." Alice and I erupted into hyena-like laughter.

* * *

Leaving the movie theatre hand in hand with Edward, I chuckled. "I can't get over how much you look like him."

Edward scrunched up his face, shaking his head. "I just don't see it."

"Are you kidding me? He's definitely your doppelganger. You could pass for Robert Pattinson's brother . . . his _twin_ brother." I'd heard of the actor before, but I hadn't ever seen one of his movies until tonight.

Edward dropped my hand, sliding his arm around my waist and pulled me close as we walked. "You're delusional. He's got legions of females screaming for him wherever he goes, right? I think I'd remember if I ever got that kind of response from women."

"The only reason you don't is because it's not acceptable in our society for girls to act like that around non-celebrities. But don't you notice all the women turning their heads when you walk by? They're screaming on the inside, believe me." I smiled greedily, well aware of how damn lucky I was.

Nearing his Volvo, Edward took my hand and led me around to the passenger door. Instead of opening the door, he abruptly spun me around and pushed me against the car. Faster than I could process, his warm, hard body pressed against mine, while his hands cradled my face. Oh, god, he was glorious. His soft, red lips, framed by just the right amount of dark scruff, were just a breath away from my eager mouth. I could smell him, already taste him. He tilted my head, until I dragged my gaze from his mouth to his smoldering, green eyes.

"Bella, even if that's true, I don't fucking care. The only woman's screams I want—that I need—are yours."

Oh, lordy, could this man talk. Pushing up onto my toes, I wrapped my arms around his neck and attacked his beautiful mouth. He kissed me slowly and thoughtfully, leaving me breathless and aching for more. Oh, hell, could this man kiss. And, oh, fuck—this man could fuck like I'd never been fucked before. I needed to get us out of the parking lot and into our bed immediately.

"Home, please—right now," I panted against his mouth.

Ten minutes later we exited the 101, now only a few minutes from the house. We'd filled those minutes with silly chitchat about movies, celebrities, and their obscene paychecks. I'd given up during dinner trying talking to him about more substantive topics, like his experiences so far at the veterans' hospital.

"So what's on the agenda for tomorrow?" he asked, squeezing my hand resting on his thigh. "More yoga?"

Oh, crapadoodles! I didn't want to have this conversation tonight. I wanted to make love to him, not argue. My gut told me that a heated discussion was inevitable if I answered his question honestly. I had planned to tell him about my plans to visit Seth at the jail but not until tomorrow. Any time my brother came up in conversation, Edward would withdraw and shut down. But I couldn't straight out lie to him.

"Uh . . . well, I thought I'd, um, maybe visit my brother." I avoided his eyes, focusing instead on our clasped hands. My thumb moved repetitively over his knuckle, the rest of my body clenching in anticipation of his response.

He sighed heavily—well, it was more like a huff of irritation. "He doesn't deserve a visit from you, Bella."

"He's my brother."

"He's the reason you almost died!" he roared. His knuckles tightened around the steering wheel, his jaw clenching as it does when he's fighting back his emotions.

I gasped, shocked by his outburst. My body tensed, my thumb ceasing its circles on his hand. Realizing I was holding my breath, I pulled my hand away and inhaled deeply through my nose as I looked out the window. The negative energy pulsated around us, heavy and awkward.

"He's still my brother," I mumbled, staring out the window as we arrived home and pulled into the circle drive. "Do you expect me to just cut him out of my life now or what?"

The car came to a stop, and I heard Edward release his seatbelt and shift in his seat. "Yes, I think you should. At least until he gets himself cleaned up. Anybody, friend or family, who brings danger into your life shouldn't be allowed to be in it."

My head jerked around, my eyes shooting deadly lasers at him. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "So if Rosalie had a drug problem, you'd just abandon her? Seriously?"

Edward sighed, rubbing his eyes. "I don't know for sure what I'd do. Sometimes we don't see things clearly when there are emotions involved. But because I can see your situation objectively, I'm telling you that you can't save him, and you have to protect yourself."

I looked at him, dumbfounded. "So if I have any problems down the road, like maybe I get addicted to sleeping pills because of my nightmares or whatever—you're just going to check out, abandon me?"

"What? How in the hell did we go from Seth's fuckery to me leaving you?"

"Because apparently you have no loyalty to those you love when things get rough!" I opened the car door, bolting out before he could see the tears on my cheeks. "Just like Jacob," I whispered, slamming the door shut.

As I opened the front door, Edward's angry voice trailed after me. "That's not fucking fair, Bella!"

* * *

Though it was June in the dry, scorching desert, the sun was warm and welcoming in the early morning. I'd woken earlier than usual. The cold, empty space in my bed had shouted at me, keeping me awake with restless guilt and sadness.

I cradled my coffee mug in my hands, sipping the soothing warmth while analyzing the regret I felt and how it was interlaced with lingering anger toward Edward for what he'd said. And throw on top of that a heap of hurt because Edward had slept in the guestroom. He hadn't even tried to come to our room and talk to me.

"Don't mince words, Alice. What do you think?"

Fortunately for me, Alice was up early as well. I was utterly confused, and I knew Alice would give it to me straight. She had just a few minutes to spare before leaving for a teaching job interview, so I'd quickly filled her in on my fight with Edward.

"I don't do mincing, so no need to tell me not to mince."

I chuckled. "Whatever, Al. Just tell me what to do."

"You're not as healed from your divorce as you think you are. You wouldn't have turned a conversation into Seth into something about you and Edward if you were totally over it. Edward was talking about excluding people from your life who are a danger to you, not walking out on loved ones who have minor problems. Illegal drugs and breaking and entering are not even in the same realm as any issues you may or may not have."

I felt the warmth of Alice's hand on my forearm, squeezing it affectionately. "Edward is not Jacob, not even close. You owe him an apology."

"So everything was my fault?" I instantly regretted asking for her non-mincing advice. Now I felt even shittier than I already had.

"Of course not—it always takes two. From what you've told me, Edward could have been more sympathetic about everything with Seth, instead of yelling at you about it. But you're the one who questioned his commitment, and you're the one who ran out on him."

I sat my coffee cup down on the ceramic tabletop, freeing my hands to wipe away the tears that had spilled over with my last blink. I felt torn in two, between Edward and my brother. "Do you agree with Edward about Seth?"

"I agree with both of you. Maybe it doesn't have to be so black and white. Can you keep Seth out of your life for your safety but not abandon him completely?"

"That's an oxymoron, Alice. How would that even be possible?"

"I hate to point out the obvious, but he's probably going to do some prison time for his role in what happened. So he won't be in your life for a while, but you can still be in his by writing to him. As far as when he gets out . . . well, that's when it might get tricky. There is the whole tough love thing that says if you continually bail him out, sparing him of consequences, he'll continue to make the same mistakes. But that doesn't mean you have to cut off all contact." She glanced at her watch. "Oh, shit, I'm sorry, but I've got to jet, or I'm going to be late."

"Oh, yeah, get out of here." I stood up, hugging her quickly. "You'll do great. They're going to love you."

"Of course, they will." She giggled, closing the sliding glass door behind her.

Downing the last swallow of tepid coffee, I stood up and went inside to the kitchen where I dropped my mug into the sink. I looked out the window, the blooming bougainvillea morphing into a blur of red through my watery vision. I really should let him sleep, but I couldn't bear the ache in my chest another minute.

I made a beeline through the living room and down the hallway to the guest bedroom. Opening the door slowly, I cautiously poked my head inside. What I saw instantly dissolved all the anxiety and tension I'd been carrying, a calmness coming over me. Edward was asleep on his side, his arms clutching a pillow against his chest. His always disheveled hair was a hot mess, an alluring combination with the heavy stubble across his sharp jawline.

_Why so beautiful, Edward? Why?_ I gazed at him reverently, appreciatively, in awe—much like when looking upon God's other magnificent creations, like a particularly unique sunset or a waterfall cascading from a mountaintop.

I padded quietly across the carpeted floor, kneeling down next to the bed. I closed my eyes, luxuriating in the sound of his shallow, rhythmic breathing. I felt better already, just being next to him. I would let him sleep, I decided.

Opening my eyes, I noticed for the first time that his feet were hanging off the end of the twin bed by about six inches. I smiled, holding my giggles inside. Poor guy! He looked like a giant in a child's bed.

"Bella?" His voice cracked, hoarse with sleep.

As soon as I heard his voice and turned, seeing the love in his sleepy eyes, the tears began to run again.

"I'm so sorry." I looked him in the eyes, wiping tears away from mine.

He opened his arms wide, holding them out to me. "Come here."

Crying and sniffling, I eagerly crawled into the narrow bed. He wrapped me up tightly in his arms, covering my body with his. "I'm sorry, too." His lips danced over my face, kissing my forehead, my eyes, my nose. "Don't cry. I'm so sorry," he whispered, his lips ghosting across mine.

I captured his warm, wet mouth, sucking on his soft lips. His throaty moan sent my hands roaming, sliding over his muscled back and down over his perfect ass. He swiveled his hips against mine, and I felt him—hard—right there.

I knew we still had things to resolve, but that could wait. I needed his healing touch, to be connected with him in a way that I'd only ever felt when we made love. "I need you," I said, already breathless as I struggled to push my shorts down. Edward lifted off of me, throwing the sheet out of the way. Sitting back on his knees, he hurriedly yanked my shorts off the rest of the way.

I reached for him, wanting to pull his naked body to mine, but instead he dipped his head down. With no warning, his wet, open mouth pressed firmly against my clit, his tongue flicking and swirling around it. "Oh, god, Edward," I cried out. His hands slid beneath my bottom, squeezing and pulling my hips upward, increasing the pressure of his mouth against my pussy. I whimpered and moaned.

Just as the exquisite pressure built, Edward stopped, but very quickly he had my lower half lifted up, completely off the bed. He held my hips in his hands, while my legs sprawled over his forearms. In one fast and hard thrust of his hips, he was buried in me.

"Fuck, yes" he bellowed, throwing his head back as he circled his hips, grinding against me.

As he pulled out, he lowered his head and stared at me, his eyes intense and passionate. I reached up and grabbed hold of the headboard railing, anticipating a hard and thorough fucking. A big grin spread across his face, and he winked at me just as he plunged himself inside of me again. His pace was unbelievably fast, and tilting my hips in his hands just so, his cock hit my sweet spot every single time. Within a minute, I shattered, my wet warmth blanketing us both.

Edward continued moving inside me as he lowered my hips to the bed, his pace now slow and measured. I yanked off my camisole, pulling him to me until his chest stroked my nipples. I lifted my hips, meeting his thrusts as I dug my fingers into his hair and pulled his mouth to mine. I lost myself in him—or rather, I found myself—in the bliss of his wet, soft tongue in my mouth and his warm, hard cock moving inside my body. I could live here in this moment—forever.

His mouth left mine, pulling away just enough to look at me. His lips were red and swollen, and his eyes bore into me with an overwhelming intensity. Resting his weight on his forearms, I felt every stimulating inch of him as he slowly and gently pushed in and out of me. My fingers wandered along his biceps, gripped his shoulders, and moved to caress his face. I held his jaw in my hands, my thumbs stroking his cheeks and gliding over his lips. He kissed my fingertips, still staring into my soul as he made love to me.

His arms began to tremble, his face grimacing. He was close. Hearing his guttural groans of pleasure while looking into his eyes and feeling him inside me sent me over the edge again. My muscles tightened, my body shook. "Edward," I whimpered softly, the sweet release spilling over and over again in soft waves.

He answered by arching his back, thrusting hard and stilling as he came. "Bella," he rasped, his eyes still trained on mine. Collapsing on me, he gasped a few times, catching his breath before his lips found mine, kissing me passionately.

"I would never abandon you." His mouth moved to my neck, licking and sucking. "You can't believe that, Bella. Tell me you don't really think that." He panted against my neck, sounding so pained and desperate that my heart broke.

I grabbed his head, pulling him back until I had his attention. "I believe you. I'm so sorry. I believe you, baby." Cradling his face, I kissed him softly, tenderly, trying to convey the depth of my sincerity. "I love you so much."

"And I love you back." His lips turned up into that crooked smile that always melts me from the inside out. "And I love make-up sex with you. That right there"—he shook his head, grinning—"was almost worth having to sleep without you last night."

"_Almost_." My fingers threaded through his tousled, silky hair. "But if you ever sleep in the guestroom again, you won't be getting a good-morning-fuck. I'll give you a good-morning-ass-kicking instead."

Throwing his head back, he laughed—a raw, earnest sound of happiness. "As much as I would love to see that, I slept like shit last night, so you're stuck with me even when we're arguing."

"Promise?"

"Promise," he said softly. He leaned down, looking into my eyes until his supple lips moved against my mouth, sealing the promise with a kiss.

* * *

**A/N: Credit for the sexual yoga terms (Deep Delivery Dog and Dip It In Dog) goes to my beta, Guitargirl, who imo is the Queen of Alliteration. **

**Regarding the chapter title, in yoga practice the Sanskrit word Prana is defined as life; vitality; breath; infinite, omnipresent power of the universe.**


	32. Yes, Miss Swan

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. **

**My betas, GuitarGirl and Mel/mcc101180, helped me clean this chapter up. Thank you for sticking by me. **

* * *

**Chapter 32 – **_**Yes, Miss Swan**_

**~*~ **_**Bella**_** ~*~**

The last couple of weeks had passed by quickly, filled with yoga, therapy appointments, job searching, sex and more sex with Edward, and hanging out with Alice and Emmett. We'd all gone to a concert last weekend to see Snow Patrol. Edward and Emmett weren't familiar with their music, but by the end of the night, they had both been converted. The evening was magical—lying on blankets on the grass at the outdoor venue, encircled by Edward's strong arms and the melodic music. It was a night to remember.

After the mind blowing make-up sex following our fight about Seth, we'd talked things through, managing to communicate with a semblance of maturity the second time around. If Edward had his way, I'd have nothing to do with Seth. But after some back-and-forth, we'd reached a compromise of sorts. I'd visit and write to Seth while he was incarcerated, but I wouldn't allow him physically into my life until he'd had at least a year of sobriety following his release.

I'd visited Seth later that day with my mom. My god, county jail was an abysmal place. Seeing my brother there, along with violent offenders, dressed in Sherriff Joe's black-and-white striped inmate garb was heart-wrenching. Talking with him, seeing his tears and hearing his remorse-filled apologies had been emotionally taxing. He'd sworn to me that he would check into rehab once his jail time was up, though who knew when that would be since he was still awaiting sentencing.

I'd listened to his promises with only a faint flicker of hope. It wasn't even a flicker really—more like a dull ember, dangerously close to burning out. The ache in his voice and his teary eyes conveyed sincerity, but I'd heard it all before. Don't get me wrong—I hoped like hell that my nearly fatal shooting would be Seth's personal rock bottom, that it would be the one thing that would finally wake him up. I'd never give up on him completely, yet I couldn't allow myself to believe him either.

* * *

Edward didn't scream out loud this time. Still, I was so attuned to him, even while sleeping, that I woke up when he abruptly sat straight up in bed. With his face in his hands and his arms resting on his knees, his breathing was heavy and fast, as though he'd just run around the block.

I reached out, gently rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe him. It was all I had. I'd long since learned that words were ineffectual at times like this, especially questions. I no longer asked him about his nightmares or his experiences in Iraq. His emotional armor was equivalent to a Kevlar suit—impenetrable.

We were quite the pair—most nights would find one or both of us disturbed by a terrorizing dream. The difference between us was that I would talk about mine, confiding in Edward the horror of my dreams and the ever-present feeling that I wasn't safe. Now being able to understand him better—what it was to be haunted by something frightening in your past—we were more bonded than ever.

As Edward's breathing calmed, he slowly lay back and stared blankly at the ceiling. After a couple minutes, he turned onto his side facing me. His heavy eyes looked into mine as his hand ghosted up my thigh, coming to rest on my hip. I combed my fingers through his hair, our gaze unbroken. Curling my fingers, I stroked his cheek, his jaw, and then his lips. Where once there were apologies from an embarrassed Edward, now there was a blanket of comforting stillness born from the bond of trauma.

His eyes never left mine as the wounded comforted the wounded, and I watched as the emerald windows to his soul gradually became wet, shimmering in the darkness. And then a lone tear fell, blazing a wet trail across his cheek. _Oh, my sweet Edward. _

"Guilt." His voice was so quiet and unexpected I wasn't sure I heard him right.

My hand stilled on his cheek, moving to rest on his shoulder. "What?"

He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing. "Guilt. It's suffocating." He looked down, his gaze darting to his fingers as they kneaded my hip, his thumb pressing circles into my skin. "I try to reason myself out of it, tell myself that it's not my fault that I lived. But every time I think about my men who didn't come home or the ones who came home missing a body part,

I . . . I feel—" His voice broke, and he inhaled deeply. "I feel guilt."

Oh my god, he was finally talking to me about _it_. I held my breath, fearing if I moved an inch, the spell would be broken and he'd shut me out again.

"There are a lot of men like that at the VA hospital—no legs, burns all over, or so fucked in the head they can't function in society. I feel the most guilt when I'm standing on my own two legs talking to a vet who's in a wheelchair. So in a way, going there makes me feel worse, at least at first. But by the time I leave, somehow I feel lighter. It's like I'm doing something useful again. I mean, I can't give them their legs back, and I can't bring James back, but . . . I don't know . . . when one of the vets smiles at me or says thank you, the weight is lifted a bit."

"The guilt is why you reenlisted," I whispered, daring to speak. It wasn't a question, but he looked me in the eyes and nodded, confirming what I already knew.

_You are my hero_. I stuffed the thought down before it tumbled out of my mouth. It was the last thing Edward would want to hear; the sentiment might even provoke him. I knew very little about Edward's opinions about the Iraq War, but I was sure of one thing—he didn't consider himself a hero.

To him, the only heroes were those who were injured and those who lost their lives. Somehow his logic allowed him to discount the sacrifices that all soldiers make, including the ones who come home. When he'd left a prestigious executive career and enlisted post-9/11, he had willingly placed himself in situations where he could easily be killed or injured. That he wasn't killed did not invalidate the sacrifice. To me, he was an American hero. I admired and respected him for his willingness to serve his country, for his sacrifice, his bravery, and his commitment to his fellow soldiers and to freedom.

Again, we rested in silence, only eyes communicating our love and our bond. Leaning into me, he tentatively brushed his lips across mine. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders, pulling my body flush with his. Our kisses were sensual and leisurely, as though time had stopped, and we had eternity at our feet. Hands ghosted unhurriedly over skin, caressing, touching and adoring. There was no goal in mind, no rush to reach an orgasm. We just _were_—blissfully content and fully present in the moment of loving each other.

The silence lingered, and the energy emanating between us held more significance than any words could. Ever so slowly, it swelled to a point of needing—more of an emotional ache than a physical one. I needed to be closer to him.

Arching my back, I pushed my pelvis against him and was glad to feel he was ready for me. His hand pushed my hips away, making room for his fingers to disappear into my panties. After a few languid strokes along my wet folds, he pulled my underwear down ever so slowly. And then he was on top of me, his kisses measured and controlled as he effortlessly slid into me. We made love as though time was an illusion, and it was beautiful.

* * *

I was nervous. I looked in the mirror one final time, checking my appearance. I'd thought about wearing my hair up but decided it might seem too formal, or even worse, too schoolmarm. I ran my hands over my head, making sure there weren't any ripples in my slicked back ponytail. Fastened at the nape of my neck, it hung straight and silky down my back. Professional but not prim.

During the month since my graduation, I'd sent out my resume to every school district in the area. Just when I'd thought the phone would never ring, I'd received a call from the Chandler School District. Today was the interview—in about one hour—and I felt more pressure than I might have normally. If I was still unemployed when Edward left, I feared I'd really lose it. _Idle hands are the devil's playground,_ floated through my thoughts in my dad's voice. If I had a dollar for every time I'd heard him say that, I could open my own damn school.

As pleased as I was that Edward had finally opened up to me a few nights ago, the subject of his military service was an unpleasant reminder that I was going to lose him in five weeks. His report-for-duty date was looming, and so I was desperate to nail this interview.

I hurried back to my room, slipping on the beige Antonio Melani peep-toe pumps Alice had insisted I buy. We'd spent a day shopping for clothes for upcoming interviews, and she'd said the beige heels would go with anything. Later, Alice had worked her magic on eBay, scoring me a classy Anne Klein pencil skirt and jacket in navy with a corded trim.

Three hours later, the butterflies were gone as I walked out of the school district office. The interview went as well as I could have hoped. I groaned as I got into my car, a heat blast nearly taking my breath away. Sitting closed up in the unrelenting southwestern sun, the inside of my car felt like a pizza oven. I started it up and turned the air conditioner to max.

Before pulling out of the parking lot, I sent off a quick text to Edward.

_Interview over. U home yet? B there in 30. _

He was at the VA hospital again, but I hoped he'd be back soon so I could tell him about my interview. I dropped my phone onto my lap and backed out of the parking spot, my hands playing hot potato with the scorching steering wheel. "Frickin, frackin, holy hell, that's hot!" I really needed to buy a steering wheel cover before I ended up with third degree burns.

My phone beeped, and I glanced at it quickly before the light turned green.

_I'm home and waiting for u, Miss Swan._

Miss Swan? Odd. He'd never called me that before, except at my graduation. "Oohh!" I gasped, my hand clapping over my mouth. As realization swept over me, I laughed a high-pitched girly giggle. _Oh, hell to the yes, Edward. _

As I drove by a Walgreens pharmacy, a fantastic idea popped into my head. But, damn it, I already passed by—it was too late. I thought about turning around, but then remembered there are Walgreens stores on every other corner in this sprawling city.

Sure enough, two miles down the road I spotted another pharmacy. I screeched into the parking lot, hopped out, and walked into the store as fast as my three-inch peep-toes would allow. Once I found the rack of reading glasses, I scanned them, looking for a pair that screamed "intellectual" or "teacher." I slipped on a pair with a brown tortoise shell frame. Yes! I grinned like an idiot in the tiny mirror. The lenses distorted my vision, but if I pushed them farther down on my nose, I could see just fine.

I hurried to the cash register and paid for the glasses as well as some breath mints. Back in the car, I hurriedly opened the package, popping two in my mouth. As I pulled out onto the main street, I recalled the time I'd offered Edward a mint when we were in Florence, sitting on a bench at Boboli Gardens. He'd asked if I was hinting that he had bad breath. Then I'd shamelessly kissed him. I clenched my thighs together, my body tingling as my craving for him grew. Oh, the things Miss Swan was going to do to him when she got home.

**~*~ **_**Edward**_** ~*~**

I glanced away from my Kindle to look at my phone again. Bella hadn't texted back, probably because she was driving. I was looking forward to seeing her dressed up for her interview and hearing all about it.

Stretching my legs out on the ottoman, I returned to my reading. I was about halfway through _Cosmopolis_ and was thoroughly impressed by the writing style. I wondered if Bella would like it. Probably not, as it was as far removed from Austen and Dickens as one could get. I lost myself in the bizarre story until a flash of movement caught my attention, and I looked up.

_Holy Mother_—there were no words.

Standing in front of me was the epitome of every schoolboy's teacher fantasy. Bella's hair was pulled back tight, her eyes smoldering at me over the top of librarian glasses. My eyes wandered downward, taking in her professional yet sexy suit and—_oh, fuck_—her legs went on for fucking forever. I needed to touch them, to wrap them around my body. I tossed my Kindle aside and stood up.

"Bella." It was the only thing I could manage to articulate; all my blood had left my brain, rushing down to my dick.

She arched one eyebrow, her face stern and so fucking beautiful. "It is disrespectful for a student to address a teacher by her first name. You are to call me Miss Swan. Do you understand?"

I looked at her blankly for half a second before comprehension turned my lips into a smile. "Oh, I think I do, Miss Swan."

"Good," she said smugly, moving her hands to her hips in an authoritarian stance. "I want to see you in my office immediately."

I was astonished that not only had she remember I had a student/teacher fantasy, which I'd mentioned briefly at her graduation, but she was, in fact, going to act on it. Fucking hell, I was a lucky bastard to have her in my life, to have her love and devotion.

"Yes, ma'am." I walked quickly to our bedroom, my dick straining against my jeans with every click of her high heels on the tile floor behind me.

As I closed the door behind us, I turned around, intending to hike that skirt up and fuck her hard. But, oddly, she was sitting in the office chair at her computer desk. One sexy leg was crossed over the other, her hands folded neatly in her lap.

"Your grades are excellent, Edward. However, I'm concerned about what is in that brilliant mind of yours besides academics."

"I'm not sure what you mean, Miss Swan."

"Let me clarify. Lately, your behavior around me has been inappropriate."

Clearly, Bella was in control here, so I said nothing and waited for her to continue.

"I'm well aware where your eyes are when I'm writing on the board—they're certainly not on the assignment." She arched a brow. "You often touch me inappropriately when I tutor you privately—my arm, my leg, my shoulder—whatever you think you can get away with. You fuck me with your eyes, Edward."

For the love of fuck, where did this Bella come from? She was 100% into this teacher role—no losing character, no awkwardness, no giggling. I shoved my hands into my pockets, shifting my titanium dick to the side. Goddamnit, I needed to be inside her now, but I intuitively knew that she'd shut me down if I tried to take control.

She lifted one leg into the air, slowly moving it up and over until it rested on the desk. The action hiked her skirt up, giving me a wide open view of her pussy covered in black lace. She licked her lips, her legs spread open. "Is this what you've been daydreaming about every day in class?"

"Yes, Miss Swan. I want you so fucking much."

"Come here then . . . on your knees," she ordered, one leg still propped up on the desk.

As I knelt in front of her, she moved her legs to rest on my shoulders. Unsure whether I had the liberty to do so, I just had to touch her. My hands gripped her ankles, slowing moving up her legs. She whimpered as my fingers trailed over her inner thighs. Her skirt was now completely hiked up, and I stared at the place I wanted to be, my cock throbbing and my breathing labored.

"Show me what you've been dreaming about, Edward."

I didn't hesitate but my movements were slow and methodical. She'd made me wait; now I was in control. I moved her panties to the side and spread her open, her skin glistening with desire for me. "Perfect."

She was thoroughly wet, my fingers gliding effortlessly along her velvet folds. Her hips thrust forward as she groaned. I reluctantly tore my eyes away from her succulent pussy because there was nothing better than seeing Bella's gorgeous features twisted in ecstasy. As our eyes met, I thrust one finger deep inside her—in and out, hard and slow. "Oh, god," she cried.

Now two fingers, pushing inside of her hot, wet place and curling up to stroke that magic spot on the way out. Her hands gripped my biceps, fingers digging in as her whole body tightened.

"How am I doing so far, Miss Swan?" I asked, still fucking her hard with my fingers.

She smiled between gasps, her breathing becoming louder. "A-plus."

I winked, and then bent my head down until my mouth was buried in her softness. Fuck, she tasted so sweet—I could stay here all night. I slowed the pace of my fingers sliding in and out of her, while my tongue licked slowly up her slit. Her moans became louder, her control slipping. Flattening my tongue, I pressed it hard against her flesh, moving it up until my lips suctioned over her clit, swirling it with my tongue. That was all it took—she came, wet and warm on my mouth, while sputtering out a string of filthy words. Fuck, I loved that she could squirt—it was the most erotic thing I'd ever seen, and I'd never experienced it before with any other women. I licked and lapped like an animal, sucking up all her juices.

Her fingers were in my hair, tugging. "Edward."

_Mmm, oh, so fucking perfect._ Her hands felt so good, and she tasted like honey.

"Edward! Take your clothes off."

Those were the only words that could have torn me from the blissful heaven on my tongue. She lowered her legs down from my shoulders, allowing me to stand up. At the speed of light, I stripped down to nothing, my dick now as hard as it could get, bobbing and weeping.

"Your cock gets an A-plus, too." Her soft, delicate hand wrapped tightly around it, pumping up and down a few quick strokes. "It's beautiful," she whispered. "Tell me what you want, Edward. What else have you been dreaming about in class?"

"Well, Miss Swan, I dream about fucking you. I want to fuck you right now."

She shook her head as she took off the sexy glasses. "No, that's not going to happen."

_What the fuck?_ I glared at her questioningly.

She smiled slyly. "_I_ am going to fuck _you_." My heart went into palpitations, I swear to god, because that was the hottest thing to ever come out of her mouth.

"Sit in the chair," she ordered, tonguing and biting the end of her glasses.

I wasn't used to taking a submissive role in the bedroom, but this was, surprisingly, stimulating as hell. "Yes, Miss Swan." I eagerly sat on the office chair.

Bella stared at my cock, standing tall and proud. She tossed the glasses on the desk, freeing her hands. They moved slowly under her skirt until she shimmied the black panties down to her ankles. She was fucking killing me here.

Finally, Bella came closer but instead of straddling my lap as I'd expected, she turned her back to me. She stepped back until her legs were outside of mine, and then she lifted her skirt and bent over. The sight was exquisite, mind-bending even. Brown silk hung straight down her back, leading to ivory, curvaceous cheeks. My hands flew out of their own accord, gripping and massaging the voluptuous flesh.

She looked over her shoulder, smiling. "Hands on your cock, please. Get it ready for me." Like the obedient student I always was, I adjusted my dick, holding it straight up.

"Very good." With her hands on her knees, she squatted down until her pussy grazed the head. "Edward?" I dragged my eyes away from her ass and held her gaze. "If you get another A-plus on this assignment, you can be my pet from now on." Before I could speak or even breathe, she sat down on my cock.

"Fuck, yes, baby!" I shamelessly shouted. Instinctively, I clutched her hips as she swiveled them, grinding down on me.

"Hands off, Edward," Miss Swan ordered. I groaned but obediently moved my hands away. I didn't know what to do with them so they landed in my hair, twisting and pulling as I leaned back. She lifted off of me just until my dick was almost out of her but not quite, and then she slowly sunk down on me again.

The visual was nearly as erotically stimulating as the actual friction—this position allowed me to see her glistening lips devouring my dick with every thrust downward. I didn't want her to stop—it felt so fucking amazing—but she couldn't hold out much longer, could she? She was basically doing leg squats on my dick; her leg muscles had to be on fire. Maybe that yoga was good for something other than stress relief because she continued on, riding my dick, reverse cowgirl-style.

Soon my dominant side could no longer be contained. "Fuck me harder, Miss Swan!" I growled, lifting my hips up to meet hers for the first time.

"Oh, god," Bella cried. So I did it again, pushing my cock upward just as she sank down on me. She squeaked, her body shaking as wet warmth flowed.

As soon as her muscles relaxed, Bella lifted off my dick and spun around, her face flushed and her chest heaving. Our eyes met as she straddled me, her knees on each side of me on the chair. She held my hard-as-a-steel-rod dick, lining it up and quickly sinking down on it.

As she began riding me again, her lips fucking finally found mine. We kissed, wet and hungry and messy as she briskly bounced up and down. She stopped suddenly, breathing heavy on my mouth. "Oh, god, I can't feel my legs," she whispered, followed by a giggle.

Was Miss Swan giving me permission to take charge? I fucking thought so. I wrapped my arms around her backside and stood up. Her legs wound behind my back as I pushed her against the nearest wall. With my hands supporting her ass, I fucked her against that wall, hard and furious. She screamed and swore like a sailor as I slammed into her, plunging in and out of her as fast as I could.

I knew another orgasm was taking over her when her legs tightened around my waist, fingers gripped my shoulders, and teeth bit into my neck. I tumbled over into the sweet, erotic abyss along with her, thrusting hard one last time and stilling, growling and panting as I let it go.

My climax nearly took my legs out from under me, so as soon as I caught my breath, I carried Bella to the bed, kissing her as we went. As soon as I laid her down, she removed her suit jacket and skirt before sprawling out, still panting.

"And just when I think it can't get any better," Bella finally said.

"I can't believe you did that for me, that you even remembered." I pulled her into my arms, tangling my legs with hers. I tipped her chin up until she looked into my eyes. "How are you even real?"

She beamed. "Ditto."

I kissed Bella once more before turning onto my back and tucking her under my arm. She wrapped her body around mine, her head using my chest as a pillow.

Holding her like this after making love was one of the few times I was at peace. But the serenity didn't last, being quickly disrupted by the prickling knowledge that times like these together would be taken from us very soon. She would most likely get a teaching contract, which would tie her down to Phoenix just as I would be moving to another state.

Shamefully, I dreaded her answer, but I knew the question had to be asked. "How did your interview go?"

"I felt good about it, but you never know. There are a lot of applicants, I'm sure."

"I have to leave next month."

"In four weeks and five days."

"So you'll be _here_ . . . with a permanent job, and I'll be . . . _there_." I was feeling her out, testing out an idea I'd had gestating in my brain for a couple of weeks now.

"No, you'll be overseas."

"Not right away. It could take several months before I'm deployed. And then when I come back, like I said—you'll be here, and I'll be there."

Her body stiffened against mine, and her caresses came to a halt. Finally, she spoke in a whisper. "I don't want to think about it right now, okay?"

That wasn't the reaction I'd hoped for; I wanted her to say that she'd come with me. Clearly, subtlety wasn't working for me.

Rolling onto my side, I scooted down so that we were face-to-face. "Come with me, Bella." Her eyes went wide. Stroking her head, I kissed her gently. "Please come with me."

Her pink lips fell open, her brows tensing into a crinkled line. Not a good sign. The last time I'd put myself out there like this, assuming she wanted what I did, she'd panicked and walked out the door. Fear swept over me as I waited for her answer.

"You're asking me to leave Alice and Em, my mom and Phil, Jasper, Angela . . . my hometown. I'd be in a strange city by myself for months while you're overseas."

"Christ, Bella, I'm sorry." I rolled away from her, covering my face with my hands. What the hell had I been thinking? "I'm so fucking selfish. I didn't think of it like that. Forget I said anything."

Bella didn't respond, her silence confirming that my plan was skewed, that it wouldn't work for her. I crossed my arms, draping them over my face to hide my pain and disappointment. "I'm sorry. I just can't bear the thought of being without you again," I mumbled.

Delicate hands pulled at my arms as warm, silken lips molded to my mouth, the length of her body blanketing mine. All at once, she was everywhere. "I love you, Edward," she breathed against my lips.

I wrapped my arms around her, one hand in her hair and the other on her back, holding her against my body as tightly as I could without hurting her. I needed to feel and memorize every inch of her skin because I had no fucking clue as to how to interpret her response. She loves me, she said. But was it an "I love you and I'll follow you anywhere" or was it more of an "I love you, but I can't give up everything for you."

I mentally ordered the gnawing doubts away because it didn't matter really—she would be mine no matter what her answer, whether she was near or far.

Kissing her deeply, I quickly rolled her over, settling between her legs. As I pushed inside of her, the worries fell away as I lost myself in making love to the woman of my dreams.

* * *

**A/N: Yes, that's right**—**my incarnation of Edward needs only ten minutes of recovery time. What of it? LOL. Writing this chapter left me all a-tingly. I hope it did the same for you. **


	33. Birthday Betrayals

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. **

**A/N: As ever, a heartfelt thank you to Mel/mcc101180 for her made grammar skills! I'm thrilled to introduce my newest content beta, Wiltshire Glo, who was instrumental in helping me break through the dreaded writer's block.**

* * *

**Chapter 33 – Birthday Betrayals**

**~*~ **_**Bella**_** ~*~**

After pushing the fishhook through the minnow's head, I held it up for Edward to see. "And _that_ is how it's done. Think you can handle it?"

Edward smirked as he knelt down and grabbed a minnow from the bait bucket. I watched him as he aimed the sharp point of the hook at the area I'd shown him on the minnow's head. Within seconds, his hook was baited properly, and honestly, I was more than a little surprised. Looking nothing but smug, he held it up for me to inspect.

"I'm impressed," I willingly conceded.

"Why?" He smirked. Of course, he did.

"Well, you _are_ a city boy. Blood and guts aren't for everyone." I smiled, thoroughly enjoying the opportunity to tease him.

His playful expression dissolved. "I've seen worse," he muttered, turning away and fiddling absentmindedly with the reel.

_Crap, crap, crap! _As careful as I try to be, I always seem to say something that triggers Edward's war demons. His dark moods often come without warning, as sudden and ravaging as Arizona's monsoon storms. They whip into being without any precursor—thunderous indignation or quiet anguish raining down on our space, extinguishing any degree of intimacy built between us. I'd discovered that my best weapon against these psychological storms was a dose of distraction. It didn't always work but was my best bet in this situation.

"Edward." Cupping his cheek, I stroked his jaw until he eyes met mine. I pressed my lips to his, giving him a gentle kiss. Just as I felt Edward's body relax against mine, Charlie's loud and exaggerated clearing of his throat startled us both.

"I love you," I whispered, winding my fingers through his hair and rubbing the nape of his neck.

His face was nearly expressionless except for a hint of softness in his eyes. Leaning down, his lips brushed against my ear. "I love you more."

His velvet voice and warm breath electrified me. I was assaulted with a flash image of me climbing Edward and wrapping myself around him, begging him to do me against the tree. If my dad wasn't here, I would so act on that fantasy.

I took a step back from Edward, fully aware of the hot flush on my cheeks. "Charlie's the expert on casting, so you're all his now."

I turned and headed down the river bank toward my favorite fishing perch, hollering over my shoulder, "You're up, Dad!"

I readied my reel and pulled my arm back before casting the line far across the river. _Fricking perfect! _I giggled as I glanced down the riverbank, hoping Charlie had noticed my precision cast. He'd taught me well, and no matter how old I got, there was always the little girl inside, wanting her daddy's approving smile. But Charlie's attention was on Edward, modeling the proper way to cast a fishing line.

I settled down on my boulder to wait for a fish to bite. My fishing spot was hard on the arse, but I liked that there was a smaller rock next to it that made a nice foot stool. I'd sat in this exact place so many times through the years.

Closing my eyes, I breathed in the nature that surrounded me. I could nearly taste the evergreens, wildflowers, and fresh water on my tongue, the forest air a clean concoction of the life within it. Birds serenaded me while the sun bathed me, and a warm peace filled me from the inside out. _And why do I live in a desert?_ I wondered, snorting in dismay.

Another beautiful melody joined the songbirds, my favorite sound in the world—Edward's laughter. Though I'd heard it countless times over the last few months, it never failed to fill me with unadulterated joy. I looked down the bank again. They were both smiling as Edward reeled in his line, apparently having come up short with his first attempt.

I pulled in my line a few feet—attempting to entice the fish—before turning my attention back to my favorite men. I could hear them talking but couldn't make out the words. They were both smiling, and I couldn't stop staring.

Edward's white Columbia University ball cap hid his glorious head of hair while a white wifebeater highlighted his chiseled arms. I'd insisted on the wifebeater, telling him he'd be glad he wasn't wearing a t-shirt once we hit high noon and the sweat was pouring off him. Of course, I didn't mention my ulterior motive—I wanted his shoulders and arms on display for my lusty edification.

As Edward pulled his arm back preparing to cast the line again, his bicep flexed. _My god, he's beautiful. _I sighed—loudly. He released the line, dropping it in a perfect spot in the river. I wanted to squeal my approval but that might scare the fish away, so I squeed on the inside. Fortunately, Edward looked my way, a big, proud grin on his handsome face. I smiled, giving him a big thumbs-up.

I was the luckiest girl in the world. I'd thought I was going to lose him when he left for Texas next month, but he'd thrown me for a loop when he'd asked me to come with him. I gazed at the sparkling ripples on the water, remembering that night a couple of weeks ago.

My initial response had been pure fear. I'd never lived in a city by myself, and that was what I'd be once Edward deployed—alone. But my fear had receded when Edward had covered his face, groaning his apology, and told me that he just couldn't stand the thought of being without me. My heart melted along with my fear.

I remembered what it had been like without Edward after I'd left him in London, and I knew I'd rather be without my friends and family than him. At least I'd be with him whenever he was stateside, instead of alone in Phoenix.

It was strange how a person I'd known only a few months could be more important than family members and friends who I'd known for years. But it felt as though I'd always known him, as though I'd been separated from him all my life, and we'd finally found our way back to each other. There was something familiar, an echo of intimacy perhaps from another time. That night, as he'd made love to me, I whispered the word yes to him over and over again.

The next day he'd told me it was important to him for his family to meet me, and he wanted to see them once more before he reported for duty. He had no way of knowing when he'd be free to see them again.

A few weeks later, we'd flown with Alice and Emmett to Seattle. From the airport, we'd taken a taxi to Edward's condo, stayed over one night, and then headed to Forks early the next morning. Emmett and Alice were staying with his parents. The plan was for us to all meet up in a couple of days to celebrate Edward's birthday with his family.

After arriving at Dad's house yesterday morning, we'd spent the day just hanging out with him. We ate, we talked, we watched TV, and we laughed a lot. We'd turned in early so we could wake up before the sun, and I was stunned when we walked into my childhood bedroom.

Charlie had redecorated it, turning it into a welcoming guest room with sage walls and chocolate brown bedding. And most importantly, gone was my twin bed, replaced with a queen-sized one. When I'd asked Charlie about it later, he'd simply said, "I want you two to visit as often as possible and for you to be comfortable when do."

A hard tug on my fishing line halted my daydreaming. Excited, I jumped up and began reeling in the line at a slow and steady pace. You can't be too aggressive, Dad had taught me. Otherwise, the fish puts up a bigger fight and will flip-flop himself right off the hook.

"Woo-hoo!" I squealed as the fish broke the surface of the water. "We're having trout for dinner, boys!"

* * *

"I know just what we need," Edward said, reaching for my hand to help me out of his Aston Martin Vanquish. It was nearly ten o'clock at night after the road trip back to Seattle, following our fish feast with Charlie.

I'd ended up with two fish, Charlie had caught frickin' four of them, and Edward had finally scored a steelhead just minutes before we packed up and left the river.

As I stepped out of the car, Edward pulled me close, pressing his forehead to mine. "How does a soak in my Jacuzzi tub sound?"

I pecked his lips, smiling. "It sounds perfect."

Having been awake since five-thirty in the morning, followed by hours in the sun on the riverbank, not to mention over three hours stuffed into a gorgeous but tiny car, my body was screaming.

Edward took my hand, leading me through the parking garage. I glanced back at the Aston Martin, which I'd dubbed "aphrodisiac on wheels" after seeing Edward in the driver's seat for the first time.

When he'd brought me down to the parking garage to leave for Forks yesterday morning, my jaw had hit the floor when he'd unlocked the sleek, silver sports car. When I'd asked him what it was, he'd sheepishly told me it was an Aston Martin Vanquish.

The name was familiar, but it had taken me a few minutes before it all clicked in place. When Edward and I toured the Pitti Palace in Florence, after I'd commented that a gold-gilded carriage was like a BMW in their day, Edward had said it was probably more in the Aston Martin range. I'd asked him if that was an insanely expensive car, and it had struck me odd that he'd looked almost embarrassed, his eyes not meeting mine when he answered in the affirmative. Now I knew why—that insanely expensive Aston Martin had been sitting in his garage back in Seattle at the time of that conversation. Oh, Edward.

I had finally broached the subject of money sometime following my graduation dinner. After the expensive restaurant and the diamond pendant, I needed to know if Edward was in debt to accommodate this lifestyle or perhaps he'd saved a lot of his income from when he was an executive for Cullen Industries. I hadn't been quite prepared for the truth, which was that his grandfather had not only left him an enormous trust fund, but he'd also left him stock in the family company.

The numbers made my head swim, so Edward had simplified it for me. He explained that even if he never worked another day in his life, he could still maintain the standard of living that he'd grown up with. Money had never been of prime importance to me—clearly not or I wouldn't have chosen teaching as a profession—but this knowledge did make it quite a bit easier to accept his expensive gifts gracefully.

Though his vehicle might be considered ostentatious by some, his home was the opposite of what one might expect a multi-millionaire to live in. It was a humongous penthouse, but it wasn't full of expensive art and breakable vases worth more than a teacher's salary. It wasn't messy—Edward was a bit of a clean freak—but it felt lived in. Warm colors, family pictures, and some tastefully placed Beatles memorabilia made it feel like a home.

We passed by the living room in silence, heading straight to Edward's bedroom. He dropped our overnight bags on the floor. "I'll run the water, baby."

"Okay," I mumbled, making a beeline for the toilet.

After relieving myself of too many sodas, I opened the door and stood in front of the vanity mirror. Pulling the elastic from my ponytail, I wound my hair up into a messy bun. It was then that I noticed my toiletry bag next to the sink. I smiled but then felt silly that something as simple as Edward getting my toiletry bag out for me made me feel so loved. Anxious to slide into the hot Jacuzzi, I washed my face and brushed my teeth in record time.

Edward's bathroom was about the size of two of my bedrooms put together, so I could hear the water running but couldn't see it from the vanity. Stripping off my clothes as I walked, I turned the corner to find Edward already submerged in the Jacuzzi tub.

Flickering candles bordered the edge, and the piano notes of "Claire de Lune" permeated the air. Damn, he was fast. And absolutely freaking breathtaking, too! I literally gasped and held my breath without realizing it for a second. I slowly exhaled the air I'd been holding, my senses overwhelmed as my eyes darted around, trying to take in every inch of my beautiful man.

He was leaned back with his eyes closed. Both of his arms draped over the edge of the tub, highlighting his broad shoulders and chest. His red lips juxtaposed deliciously against the dark stubble of his chiseled jaw.

I shimmied my panties down my legs, the last of my clothes to go, and then flipped off the light. He opened his eyes, smiling at me in the glow of the candlelight. "There you are, beautiful."

"I'm impressed you did all this so quickly." I took hold of his outstretched hand, steadying myself as I stepped into the tub. Sinking down slowly into the simmering water, I settled between Edward's legs and leaned back against his chest. I sighed loudly. "Oh, wow, this is just . . . oh, god, this is heaven."

Edward chuckled. "I even made a trip to the kitchen. You thirsty?" He held a water bottle in front of me.

"How do you think of everything? And so quickly?" I giggled, taking a drink.

"The Army trained me to think of every detail and to be quick about it."

"Oh, so are you saying military men make better boyfriends and lovers?" I smiled, turning my head to look up at him.

His eyes gleamed as he lowered his head, pressing his lips to mine. His mouth was soft and gentle, his tongue slowly gliding over my lower lip before pulling it into his mouth. Whimpering, I lifted my arm to grasp the back of his head, pulling, needing more. His hands moved under the water, caressing my arms, my belly, and ghosting teasingly over my breasts.

I pulled back, taking a much-needed breath. "Okay, so that was a dumb question. It wasn't really even a question."

Laughing, he kissed my nose. "I'm glad you think so."

Twisting to look up at him was a bit uncomfortable, so I settled back against his chest. "Mmm, I know so. Seriously, though, thank you. This feels so good."

"Mmm, _you_ feel so good." His fingers trailed up my inner thigh, grazing my pussy before passing over my stomach and then back down. I relaxed into the cradle of the water and his encompassing arms as he massaged and teased, his magical fingers making love to every inch of my skin. Closing my eyes, I lost myself to the electrifying sensations of touching and being touched. I rubbed my hands up and down his thick, masculine legs that were wrapped around me.

With my muscles relaxed, my mind free of tiresome thought, and my heart serene, I tried to mentally imprint this moment into my cells' memory. If only time could stand still, I could live in this moment forever.

Wet warmth teased my earlobe, sending shivers dancing all the way down between my legs. I lifted my arms and wound them around Edward's neck, fingers tugging his hair and pressing into his skin. His mouth sucked and nipped along my sensitive neck.

"Edward," I panted, turning my head. Our mouths crashed together, tongues thrusting and lips sucking, intense and demanding to match the eruption of yearning.

As I twisted more to my side, I felt Edward's growing hardness against my hip. I needed more. Breaking away from his mouth, I swiveled around and straddled him. Resting on my knees, I settled my weight down on him, my pussy pressing against his erection. "Edward—" My head fell back, and my eyes fluttered shut as I rubbed myself up and down on his hard cock.

Edward gripped my hips, steadying me. "Fuck. So good, baby."

Opening my eyes, I found pools of jade staring back at me, framed by dark, wet lashes. Holding his adoring gaze, I rubbed my hands over his wet chest, dragging them onto his shoulders, my fingers digging in and massaging his muscles. Slow and gentle, my hips continued gently rocking, sweeping my center over his cock.

His hair was already dampened by the humidity, so I dipped my hands into the water and combed through his silky-smooth locks. I repeated the process, fingers combing his hair straight back as his hands cupped my breasts, kneading my flesh and teasing my nipples into erect buds.

With our visual connection unbroken, I gripped his cock, giving it a couple of firm, long strokes before I moved my body over it. I lowered myself just enough to take in the head, eliciting a strangled moan from Edward.

With our eyes locked and my hands firmly on his chest, I lowered myself down, ever so slowly encompassing his thick, throbbing length. I wanted to feel every inch of him as I took him into my body, and—_holy freaking hell_—I did.

Fully joined, I draped my upper body over him, his firm chest caressing my nipples as I buried my face in his neck. I feasted on his warm, salty skin, licking and sucking, as I slowly moved my hips, taking in the length of his cock over and over again. The sloshing of the bubbling water matched the rhythm of my thrusts.

As I kissed along his sexy jaw, his hands suddenly grasped my face, holding me in place as his open mouth captured mine. His tongue glided leisurely alongside mine, his teeth gently nibbling at my lips. Our kisses were methodical and meaningful, matching the unhurried pace of my hips as I made love to my Edward.

I leaned back slightly, needing to relieve some tension in my thighs. Gripping the edge of the tub, I anchored myself so I could lift my body straight up and down on Edward. With the new position, he closed his eyes and rested his arms along the edge of the bathtub. I closed my eyes as well, focusing on nothing but the feel of his velvet hardness moving inside me. With every downward stroke, the tingle wound tighter, his cock teasing that magic spot inside. The sound of water spilling out onto the floor did nothing to pull me from my state of otherworldly bliss.

Every time we made love was magical. Now, we were in love, but even the first time we'd had sex, before we really knew each other, was unlike anything I'd ever experienced. As a lover of the written word, you'd think I could write a unique metaphor to define it, but I don't know of any words to describe the connection, the spiritual, peaceful high that is found when I am one with Edward.

My leg muscles began screaming at me, so I was forced to slow my movements. What I saw when I opened my eyes completely undid me.

Edward's red, wet lips were parted, his breathing slightly labored. His fingers gripped the edge of the bathtub, his knuckles white. His hair was slicked back, the wetness making it darker than usual. Water drops glistened in his five o'clock shadow and clung to his long, dark lashes, like glistening diamonds.

Taking in his manly beauty and his state of ecstasy as I moved over him was more titillating than any porn flick could ever be. I'd never felt so bound to another human being. I was unequivocally and irrevocably in love with this man. This heart-bursting love combined with the erotic physical sensation of his body slowly entering mine was overpowering. I didn't know if I was going to burst into joyful tears or into orgasm.

Suddenly, an unintelligible gurgle of sound unexpectedly tumbled from my mouth, and I fell forward, clutching his shoulders as a climactic wave began. Hot, wet lips clamped onto my breast, and fingers dug into my hips, holding me in place. Sucking and pulling hard on my nipple, he bucked upward, thrusting his cock deep inside me.

Tightly wrapping my arms around his head, I shattered. "Ohhh,

god . . . fuck, fuck, fuck," I screamed shamelessly. Edward's entire body was rigid and shaking as he bucked his hips up once more, still sucking hard on my breast. Panting, I met his thrust, grinding down on him. Gasping against my breast, he held my hips still as he emptied into me.

**~*~ **_**Edward**_** ~*~**

I swirled the beer around in my mouth as I watched her from across the room, nearly hypnotized by her grace and kindness, not to mention her elegant beauty. She was an angel in white tonight. Well, it was actually ivory, according to Alice. Bella's dress was all flowy and angel-like, and I didn't mind at all that it was strapless. I couldn't take my eyes off of the dewy, porcelain skin of her neck and shoulders.

My Grandma Violet held Bella's hand in hers as they chatted. We'd been at my parents' penthouse for my birthday party for less than an hour and already Bella had every member of my family under her captivating spell. I hadn't expected any less.

Bella covered Grandma's hand with her own, affectionately patting it, her face lit with a smile as they talked about who knows what. I wished I could lip read. Gram was probably telling Bella every embarrassing childhood story about me that she could remember.

"She's a real gem, son." Dad cleared his throat, probably uncomfortable with actually giving me his approval.

Our relationship had changed dramatically from the moment I had resigned my position at Cullen Industries and turned my life over to Uncle Sam. Since then, he'd disapproved of just about everything I did or said. I didn't want to encourage a conversation by looking at him, so I kept my gaze on Bella.

"Yes, she is," I agreed, my tone firm and maybe a little cocky.

We stood in uncomfortable silence for a beat.

"Edward, I didn't raise you to be selfish, so I don't understand what you're doing with her."

And here we go—I knew his approval had to have a catch to it.

Slowly, I turned and faced him. "Selfish?" I repeated incredulously, my mouth turned up into a smirk. I wasn't one to pat myself on the back, but volunteering for war was anything but selfish.

"You know what I mean, Edward! If you put yourself in the war zone enough times, your luck is bound to run out. Nobody has nine lives. It's not fair to Bella."

I blew out a heavy breath, my eyes darting around the room, no longer able to bear his scrutiny. He was hitting me at my weakest spot, tapping into the guilt over leaving her alone that was never too far from the surface. I took another pull off my beer bottle. "I tried to stay away from her. I really fucking tried."

"Well, you didn't. So if you want to be with her, maybe you should find a way to get out of this reenlistment."

"What the fuck are you—"

"Sweetheart, are you ready to open your gifts?" my mom interrupted, slipping her arm around my waist and squeezing me close.

"I am _so_ ready." I smiled down at her, kissing her forehead. "Lead the way, Mom." She took my hand, and I followed her without a glance at my dad.

Opening my gifts was a dreamlike blur because all I could think about was my dad's preposterous comment about finding a way to get me out of my enlistment. Who the fuck did he think he was? Like I could waltz into the U.S. Army office and tell them I'd changed my mind? They'd laugh in my fucking face! And who the fuck did he think_** I**_ was, that I would even consider skirting my duty, like a fucking coward with my tail between my legs.

"Well . . . do you like it, Edward?" Rosalie's impatient voice startled me.

"Oh, yeah, yeah. It's great." I leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Thanks, sis."

I set the book from Rose on the pile of opened gifts beside me on the sofa.

"Okay, that's the last of the gifts. Listen up everyone." Esme cleared her throat, trying to speak over the multiple conversations going on in the living room. "Help yourself to the open bar, and there's still some birthday cake over there if anyone wants seconds." Esme was in mother-slash-hostess mode, and she was very good at both.

"You raked in quite the loot there, didn't you?" Bella pulled my hand onto her lap.

"Everyone was very generous, but my favorite gifts were from you." I lifted her hand to my lips, kissing her fingers.

"Yeah?" She grinned, looking up at me through her lashes. I wondered if she knew that every time she did that, I had an instant semi.

"Yes, you did good." Bella had given me an original Beatles _Abbey Road_ LP and an Abbey Road beanie cap. I fucking loved them both.

I pulled the black beanie cap out of the pile of gifts and tugged it down over my ears. "Let's do the expected mingling so we can get out of here."

I stood up with her hand in mine and headed over to where Alice, Emmett and my sister, Rose, were gathered.

"So he actually wore it into the bar!" Alice said to my sister, Rose, in a bragging tone as we approached them.

Rose chuckled. "I wish I could have seen that, but I'm not surprised he took the dare. Emmett always goes for shock value."

"I wish you had been there, too, Rosie." I draped my arm around her shoulder. "But you had better things to do, I guess."

"Hmm, hang with my brother or be wined and dined by the newest most eligible bachelor in Seattle? Sorry, you lose."

"Uh-huh, I see how it is. So who is this guy anyway?"

Rose's eyes fucking twinkled. "I'll fill you in later. Tonight is your night. So where in the hell did you find a British bearskin cap anyway?"

"You can find just about anything on the internet. Bella helped me." I squeezed Bella's waist, winking at her.

"Those two were in cahoots and kept it hush-hush until right before we got out of the car to go into The High Dive," Alice chimed in. "Then out of the trunk Edward pulls this huge black, furry hat that we'd seen on the soldiers outside of Buckingham Palace."

Bella giggled, her body shaking against mine. It had been pretty fucking funny. Em had worn that monstrosity all night at the bar, which facilitated a lot of attention and interesting conversations.

I pulled Bella closer against my body and smiled down at her. God, I loved her laugh.

"I told you in London I'd wear it to The High Dive, but you fuckers thought I was full of shit." Emmett crossed his arms smugly, grinning like he'd won the fucking lottery.

"I absolutely knew that you'd do it," I corrected him. "You forget how well I know you. I just wanted to see it. I have to say—it was worth every penny."

"I need to excuse myself to the ladies' room," Bella said, still chuckling as she looked up at me. "Where is it?"

Rose reached out, taking Bella by her wrist. "I'll show you, Bella. Come with me."

I grabbed a quick brush of a kiss from Bella before Rose hurried her away. I shot the shit with Alice and Emmett, but once Rose returned, I immediately pulled her away for a heart-to-heart talk.

I refilled her drink and grabbed another beer before we found a seat on the sofa. She told me all about this guy, Felix, who she had met at Cullen Industries a few months ago when he was hired on in her department after relocating from New York City.

"What the fuck kind of name is Felix?" I teased her, though I was completely serious. "Sounds like a cat."

She punched my arm, her face in a scowl. "He is nothing like a cat, asshole! He's fucking 6'6" and all man."

"Goddamn, Rose!" I rubbed my arm, laughing. I was going to miss my little sis. "I haven't seen you this worked up over a guy in a long time."

She proceeded to tell me more than I ever wanted to know, but when it became clear to me that she was genuinely interested in this Felix, I told her I wanted to meet him.

She vetoed that right away, saying that it was too soon for her to introduce him to the family. That really sucked because by the time they would be at the point, I'd be at Ft. Hood or in fucking Iraq, much too far away to do my brotherly duty. I'd always been protective of Rosie, taking on the job of screening all her love interests. If they didn't meet my approval, they didn't stick around too long. Amazingly, Rose usually listened to and acted upon my opinion and advice. I hated that I wouldn't be around to make sure this guy was good enough for her.

I excused myself from Rose, so I could go find my Bella. She hadn't ever come back to the living room after excusing herself to the restroom. My mom had probably accosted her in the kitchen.

I was getting a little hot, so I pulled the beanie off and jammed it into my pocket as I made my way toward the kitchen. Surprisingly, the kitchen was empty. I was just about to turn around when I noticed the sliding glass door that led to the outside deck was open. I crossed the room to take a quick look out there.

"So you'll help me find a way to get Edward discharged from the Army?"

I stopped in my tracks, paralyzed by my dad's words coming from the deck. I was hidden from his view by the blinds on the closed portion of the doors. My fingers balled up into angered fists, and I held my breath, listening.

Was he out of his goddamned mind? I knew Dad didn't approve of my military service, but I couldn't fathom that he would go behind my back and collude with somebody to prevent it.

Frozen in place, I willed my rapid breathing to slow, like I'd been taught to do in combat. Who the fuck was he talking to? Who was the second betrayer?

"What did you have in mind, Carlisle?" My angel's voice floated through the open patio door, seizing my palpitating, and now broken, heart.

* * *

**A/N: Honestly, this cliffie wasn't even planned; it just wrote itself that way. Really! **cue evil laugh****

**So, a word about the jacuzzi sex scene – my fabulous beta, Mel/mcc101180 of Project Team Beta, referred me to an article written about the perils of water sex and how unrealistic these scenes often are in fan fiction. The author postulated that water is good for foreplay but bad for sex. One reason is that water washes away the woman's natural lubricant, making for uncomfortable intercourse. HUH!? Well, slap me silly and call me Sally! This never even occurred to me. Why? Because this Jacuzzi scene is inspired by a personal experience of mine. Not only did I have no lubrication issues, but it still is counted as one of the top sexual experiences of my life. TMI? Ah, c'mon, I'm writing graphic sex scenes for you—I think we're bonded now. LOL! **

**The author of the article states: "I'll happily accept that some of you out there may have wonderful sex immersed in the water. In which case, I a) envy you greatly and b) haven't met you."**

***Raising Hand* Here I am! Guilty as charged and happily so! And so, the jacuzzi scene remains as originally written because in my world it is realistic. **

**I must say though that I agree with the author on most of her other points. Wall sex in a wet, slippery shower (a common scene in fanfic) is definitely unrealistic in my world. It's awkward and possibly dangerous. I agree with the author that "I'm clueless on how to make it work other than to have a vampire be one of the partners." *gigglesnort* Geez, if only my partner was a vampire. **

**I will provide a link to this article in the Facebook TIWBG group page for those interested. There are also pictures that accompany this chapter there. This is a private group for readers of the story where you can chat about it, see pictures, hear news about updates, etc. I will answer any and all your posts/questions in the group. Please come join us! **_**Just insert the following after the Facebook URL – /groups/281151482005898/**_

_**Then request to be added to the group. **_


	34. What Happens In Vegas, Stays In Vegas

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. **

**A/N: To the most loyal betas I could ask for, GuitarGirl, Mel/mcc101180, and Wiltshire Glo, your support is not taken for granted.**

* * *

"_So you'll help me find a way to get Edward discharged from the Army?" _

_I stopped in my tracks, paralyzed by my dad's words. I was hidden from his view by the blinds on the closed portion of the doors. My fingers balled up into angered fists, and I held my breath, listening._

_Was he out of his goddamned mind? I knew Dad didn't approve of my military service, but I couldn't fathom that he would go behind my back and collude with somebody to prevent it._

_Frozen in place, I willed my rapid breathing to slow, like I'd been taught to do in combat. Who the fuck was he talking to? Who was the second betrayer? _

"_What did you have in mind, Carlisle?" My angel's voice floated through the open patio door, seizing my palpitating, and now broken, heart._

**Chapter 34 – What Happens in Vegas, Stays In Vegas**

**~*~ **_**Edward**_** ~*~**

"I'd rather hear your thoughts," Dad continued. "You're around him much more than I am. Rather than make something up out of nothing, it would be more believable if it was based on a kernel of truth. Have you noticed anything about him that we could use to force the military to discharge him?"

I squeezed my eyes shut and ground my teeth, knowing that my future hung on the words that Bella would say next. Would she tell my dad about the nightmares and my freak-out flashback when she was in the hospital?

"No, I can't think of a thing." Bella's voice was subdued, almost wistful.

"Drug abuse might do it, but a simple test would show that he's clean, so that won't work." Dad sounded matter-of-fact, like he was in a business meeting, negotiating and planning his next takeover. "The only thing I can think of is mental instability because that's hard to prove or disprove. If both his dad and girlfriend were to report signs of mental distress, they'd have to listen."

I forced myself to remain still, consciously fighting the urge to launch my body through the door and put my fist in his face. But I needed to hear this play out, to know for certain that Bella was the woman I believed her to be. I didn't have to wait long.

"What the fuck kind of father are you?" she bellowed, startling me. "You would disparage your son's military reputation, your son who has been deemed a hero by the fucking President?" She paused briefly before continuing, her voice now low and more controlled. "Why are you the _only_ one who isn't proud of him, proud of his sacrifices, of his bravery and humility?"

Her words washed over me, the relief so profound that I dropped my face in my hands to rub away the tears that were welling up. Clearly, with F-bombs flying, Bella was beyond furious.

"I don't understand. You gave me the impression you were on board with this," Dad countered, undoubtedly mystified by Bella's attack. "I thought you felt the same way I did—desperate to keep him safe."

"Oh, I _am_ desperate to keep him safe. I fear losing him more than anything in my life, so much so that I stayed away from him for a while, unwilling to take that risk." Bella's voice was hard, enunciating each word with tenacity. "But I cannot—_I will not_—betray him and take away something important to him in the process."

I waited, not feeling the least bit guilty for eavesdropping. This was all about my fucking life, after all. A very long twenty seconds or so passed when the sound of sniffles broke through the silence. Oh, fuck, Bella was crying.

"Every father wants his son to do more, to be better than himself. And Edward has far surpassed me in every way." My dad's words were strangled by emotion, making it hard to understand him. My mouth fell open, stunned beyond words because I had never known Dad to cry. Not ever.

"My boy is continually selfless while I'm entirely selfish, wanting to keep him for myself." Dad exhaled loudly, undoubtedly trying to reel in his unbridled emotions, but I could tell he was still tearful.

"Of course, I'm proud of him, Bella," he went on. "I couldn't be more proud, but I can't lose him, and the odds are against him. How many tours can a soldier do before his number is finally up?"

He was proud of me? I couldn't fucking believe it. All I'd seen from him since I'd enlisted over five years ago was anger, coercion, and belligerence, always keeping me at a distance.

"Carlisle." Bella's soothing voice broke through his muffled cries. "I understand your fears, more than you probably realize. But we have to respect Edward's choices. If you love him, as you clearly do, you must not betray him. And that's exactly how he'd see it."

"I know, I know" —he sobbed, losing control again— "but you don't understand what it's like for a parent. You've only known him a few months. He's my baby boy—my only son."

I'd heard enough; I had all the answers I needed. I took a few cautious steps forward, pausing in the open doorway.

"Edward!" Bella gasped.

I couldn't look at her just yet. My tear-filled eyes were honed in on my dad's forlorn face, still puffy and wet with tears.

"I don't know whether to punch you or hug you," I rasped, trying not to outright cry.

His damp eyes were fearful and pained. "Forgive me, Edward."

The anger I'd felt so keenly only moments before evaporated, now that I knew that the last few years of distance had been about his fears rather than about any personal rejection of me. I just might have my dad back, and I knew exactly what to do. I fell into his arms, embracing him fully like I had when I was a boy.

**~*~ **_**Bella**_** ~*~**

I'd just spent the better part of my day completing the longest employment applications I'd ever seen in my life. They were online submissions but still very time-consuming. The good news was that I only had to fill out two of them. That was also the bad news.

I'd been disappointed to learn that there was only one school district in Killeen, Texas, comprising of public and charter schools, and there was one private school that wasn't part of the district. This meant that my chances of getting a job in Killeen were much less than they would be here. In the Phoenix Metro area, there were so many school districts that I couldn't even begin to name them all. But my life was with Edward now, and he would be living in Killeen once he reported for duty at Ft. Hood in three weeks.

I happily clicked the submit button, glad to have that tedious but necessary task behind me. I rolled my shoulders and turned my head from side to side, trying to work out the tension in my neck.

Edward's laugh broke through the silence in my bedroom, and I smiled. I _really_ smiled, all the way down to my toes. It was evident that Edward's recent reconciliation with his dad had made him a happier person. They'd spoken on the phone frequently during the two weeks since we'd left Seattle.

On that pivotal night in Edward's life, I'd watched him and his dad in a long and emotional embrace. I probably should have left and given them privacy, but I was so happy and relieved that I'd just stood there, wiping at the tears that wouldn't stop flowing.

When Edward stepped away from Carlisle, he'd pulled me into his arms and held me so tightly, as if it was the last time he'd have the chance. Then he'd cradled my face in his hands, resting his forehead against mine. His cheeks were wet and his lips warm when they pressed softly to mine. "Thank you," he'd whispered, his lips ghosting across my cheek. "I love you, Bella, so much." His lips skimmed along my neck, leaving feather-soft kisses.

Before we left Seattle, Edward had spent a couple hours holed up in Carlisle's office talking everything out and healing wounds. On our flight back to Phoenix, Edward had told me that it had been his best birthday ever.

Scooting away from my computer, I stretched my arms over my head before padding off to the living room. As I came around the corner, Edward looked up and winked.

"Okay, sounds good," he said into the phone. "Yeah, I'll tell her."

Heading toward the kitchen for a snack, my eyes raked over Edward from the top of his gloriously messy hair down to his bigger-than-average feet. How could he be so freakishly sexy just sitting on the couch talking on the damn phone?

His faded-jeans-covered long legs were stretched out on the ottoman, crossed at the ankles. Oh, god, he was wearing his military-style black boots—recently dubbed the sex boots by yours truly. My eyes wandered up to his black v-neck tee that showed off a sprinkling of chest hair. He held the phone in one hand while the other was busy rummaging through his rumpled hair. _Oh holy biceps!_ With every sweep of his fingers through his hair, his bicep rolled and flexed. _Gah!_

We'd made love just last night, so I should be satisfied, right? Was it possible to be satisfied yet unquenchable? I didn't know what was normal, but I knew that I could never seem to get enough of him. And I wanted him again—right now.

I altered my path, turning toward the front door instead of the kitchen. Alice and Emmett weren't due back until five, but just in case their plans changed, a locked door would give us warning if they came home early. I turned the deadbolt lock with purpose, glancing back at Edward. His eyebrows were raised, questioning my actions.

I held his gaze as I sauntered over to the couch, peeling off my tank top and throwing it over my shoulder.

"Uh-huh, that's right," he mumbled into his cell, his wide eyes now focused on my bare breasts.

In one quick move, I straddled him, snaking my hands under his shirt and latching my mouth to his neck. I twirled my tongue, my lips sucking hard enough to mark his warm skin. He let out a faint gasp, his free hand clutching my hip as he thrust his hardness against me. I moaned into his neck.

"Hey, Dad, I'm sorry, but I need to go for now. Bella wants me."

I almost choked; I couldn't believe he said that. Smiling, I sat up and looked at him, barely suppressing a laugh at the double entendre. He was telling his dad the truth—I wanted him all right, every inch of him.

"I love you, too, Dad." He tossed his phone to the end of the couch, and before I could blink, he grabbed hold of me and pulled me forward, thrusting my breast into his mouth.

"Oh, god, yes," I stammered, throwing my head back and closing my eyes. His velvet, warm tongue swirled and flicked at my sensitive nipple. Letting it go with a popping sound, he looked up at me, his eyes dark with desire.

"What brought this on?" he asked, holding my breasts in his hands, his thumbs expertly circling my erect nipples.

"Your fuckhot self, stretched out on the couch, all long and lean and beautiful, brought this on." I pulled my hands from beneath his shirt, sinking them into his hair and pulling him to me. I crashed my mouth to his, kissing him hungrily. Hands were everywhere, hips were thrusting, and moans were echoing.

I scooted back off of Edward's erection, onto his thighs and began unfastening the buttons on his jeans. Goddamn button-fly jeans looked so delectable on him, but they did not provide easy access to the goods. With the last button undone, I stood up, allowing Edward to lift his hips and pull the jeans down.

"God, I love your cock." I purred as it sprung free, thick and outrageously long. I just had to have a quick taste. I pushed my shorts and panties off and then bent over, taking almost all of him into my mouth.

"Motherfucker!" Edward bellowed.

I licked and sucked his perfect cock like a popsicle—a warm, silky popsicle. Up and down, up and down.

"Fuck, Bella—ohhh, god—your mouth."

As much as I hated to end that particular pleasure for him, I couldn't wait anymore. My girly parts were aching for him. Frantically, I straddled him again, pressing my knees into the couch as I sat down hard on his cock. "Edward!" I threw my head back, biting my lip.

He dug his fingers into my hips, groaning and muttering profanities. We remained motionless for a moment as I fell forward to kiss him, my breasts smashing against his chest. He plunged his tongue into my mouth, gliding alongside mine, his teeth pulling at my lips.

Suddenly, he thrust his pelvis up, pushing himself farther into me. I whimpered as I began slowly moving myself on him. He sat up, capturing my breast with his hot mouth.

Soon, the methodical pace wasn't enough. I leaned forward and anchored myself by clutching the back of the couch, one hand on each side of his head. The movement caused my breast to pull from his mouth, so I captured his mouth with mine, bouncing up and down on him at a furious pace.

His hands were on my hips, helping me lift my body up and down on his cock. The feel of him inside of me was pure bliss, his considerable size ensuring that every sensitive square inch inside me was stimulated.

But just as the pressure peaked, my legs began to give out, shaking and slowing. Edward must have noticed because in one quick, fluid move, he'd stood up with me and laid me on the ottoman in front of the couch. He pulled out, quickly yanking his boots off and removing his jeans.

Throwing my legs over his shoulders, he began pounding into me. I was folded in half as he bent farther down, his wet, open mouth finding mine. He tongue-fucked my mouth with the same pace and intensity that his cock plunged in and out of my pussy. I shrieked my pleasure when he swiveled his hips. _Swivel, thrust hard, swivel, pull out to the tip_—r_epeat._ Even when Edward fucked me hard and wantonly, he still always managed to do it with finesse and skill.

"You fuck me so good, baby." My words came out choppy as he tirelessly pushed into me again and again.

And with that, I cried out, sputtering filthy words, the name of god, Edward's name and all of manner of incoherency as I reached the pinnacle, gushing my release.

"Fuck, yes. That's so fucking hot." Edward buried his face in my neck, sucking and biting my flesh as he swiveled and ground his hips against me one last time, his body rigid as he came.

Once our breathing returned to a normal rate, he pulled out of me and tossed me my tank top. I stood up and wiped myself with it, gasping when I saw wetness all over the ottoman and a little on the carpet.

"Holy shit!" I looked at Edward, my mouth hanging open and my eyes wide. "Oh, no!"

He laughed and grabbed my shirt out of my hand. Kneeling down, he wiped the ottoman and the carpet. "Good thing this is leather. Alice will never know."

I rolled my eyes. "I'll go get the disinfectant."

* * *

"Emmett, how would you feel about moving to Vegas?" Alice smiled impishly, sliding her red-framed sunglasses on as we stepped away from the drink hut on the Vegas Strip. We'd been in Sin City for only a couple of hours, and she was like a kid at Disneyland.

Emmett chuckled. "You're just going to up and leave your parents and friends?"

"They'll get over it," she quipped with a shrug. "And these two deserters here are moving to Texas soon, so there's no reason to stay in Phoenix."

I rolled my eyes at her guilt-inducing dig. I knew she was happy for Edward and me, but she wasn't happy about me moving far away. I understood—I was going to miss the hell out of my best girlfriend.

Emmett grinned, shaking his head. "Whatever you want, sunshine," he answered, draping his arm around her shoulder. "It would be an interesting twist of irony if the graduation gift from your parents was the catalyst for you to move away from them."

"She's not going anywhere, Em," I asserted. "As spontaneous as Alice tends to be, she's lived in Phoenix her whole life, and she loves it there."

"She's right," Alice conceded. "I wouldn't actually move here—it's hotter than two rats fucking in a wool sock."

Edward's laughter bellowed, raw and childlike. "Where the hell does she get this stuff?"

"I have no idea." I chuckled because his laugh was infectious, not because of Alice's funny one-liner. I'd heard that one from her before, pretty much every summer in Phoenix.

"Alice, Phoenix is just as hot as Vegas," Emmett said. "You should be used to this."

"Well, this Phoenician stays inside during the summer as much as possible. Typically, I don't take long walks like this in 113 degree heat."

"The good news is there are air-conditioned hotels every 50 yards." Emmett smiled down at her, pressing a kiss to her cheek. "We'll just cut through each hotel and cool off along the way."

"I'm surprised you two haven't been to Vegas before," Edward interjected, referring to Alice and me.

Emmett chuckled. "Yeah, it's a good thing you've got a couple of Vegas veterans here to show you the ropes."

"And what ropes might those be, Em?" I asked, my tone teasing as I looked over at him.

His eyebrows raised, a cheeky grin spreading across his face as he made eye contact with Edward. "Uh, well, let's just say . . . um, well, we can help you avoid returning to Phoenix with any stories that rival _The Hangover_."

"Been there, done that, huh?" I smiled up at Edward, but he was staring straight ahead.

"Alice, I think that drink of yours is almost as tall as you are," Edward interrupted, his lithe fingers sliding between mine.

I chuckled quietly to myself. Like that abrupt change of subject wasn't obvious? Clearly, Edward didn't want to reminisce about his and Emmett's previous Vegas exploits. God, I could only imagine; however, I think I'd rather not.

"I know!" Alice laughed, holding up the elongated yard glass Vegas is known for. "It's so bizarre walking down the street with open containers, but I fucking love it." She took a long sip from the straw of her daiquiri.

"What's with all the papers scattered on the sidewalk?" I mumbled, bending over to pick up a small glossy postcard.

"Uh, yeah, about that—" Edward drawled. "Just keep walking when the guys up ahead try to shove the fliers at you."

Alice peered over my shoulder, getting an eyeful. "Bow Chicka Wow Wow," Alice sang, swiveling her hips suggestively.

The guys laughed, but my jaw was still hanging open as I stared at the nearly nude woman on the card. The advertisement was simple and vague, stating her name—Giesele—and offering a thirty-five dollar special.

"Oh, my god, this is legal?" I asked, genuinely astonished. I didn't think I was a prude, but I couldn't quite process that it was legal to have hundreds of pictures of naked women wallpapering the streets.

"Handing this stuff out? Yes. Prostitution? No. That's why the ads are ambiguous," Emmett explained.

"Only in fucking Vegas!" Alice proclaimed, holding her gigantic daiquiri up in a toasting gesture.

I tossed the porn over my shoulder as our four glasses clinked together, in chorus with ringing laughter.

* * *

Our three days in Vegas passed by in a blur of drunkenness, hangovers, sex, laughter, gorging at the buffets, and very little sleep. It was awesome!

As the dealer shuffled the cards, I sipped my lemon martini, though I didn't need the alcohol to get a buzz. I was already high on the energy permeating the casino floor—it was intoxicating. My body vibrated with the current of hundreds of voices chattering, lights flashing and chimes singing out from endless rows of slot machines, and occasional shouts of victory.

"What do you think, sweetheart?" Edward lifted the edges of his two cards on the blackjack table, stealthily revealing them to me.

He had a ten and a four. Well, crapadoodles. Fourteen was probably not close enough to twenty-one to win, but if he was dealt anything over seven, he'd lose. I sighed, lifting my gaze from the cards to his eyes, silently asking for his input.

"It's your call this time, Bella." His fingers trailed down my bare back, my red halter top a necessary defense to the sweltering heat. But sitting inside the frigid casino, my nipples were standing at attention, along with thousands of goose bumps on my arms.

Taking a nervous breath, I whispered my decision to Edward, "Hit me." Without hesitation, he tapped the table, and the dealer threw down another card.

He lifted the edge of the card, and I had to bite my lip to suppress my giddiness. He'd been dealt a six which brought us to twenty. He winked at me before turning his attention back to the game.

We'd spent the last couple hours gambling in the casino where we were staying, the Paris Hotel. Considering we'd met in Paris, France, it had been a romantic no-brainer to choose the Parisian themed hotel.

Edward had bought a thousand dollars' worth of chips at the start of the evening. It wasn't even my money, but I was on the emotional rollercoaster with him every time he lost or won. He gambled while I watched and learned. And I was perfectly content to do so, quickly becoming hypnotized by Edward's long, sexy digits fingering his stack of chips, his hand sweeping across the cards and flipping them over to reveal their value.

We'd played several hands of blackjack with Emmett and Alice, but eventually they'd taken off across the floor to play roulette. Edward had told them they were fools and that we'd see them later after they'd lost all their chips. He'd then explained to me that roulette was a game of pure chance and that he preferred ones that had at least an element of logic and smarts.

"Congratulations, Bella!" Kate said, her Slavic accent making her sexier than she already was. She and her husband, Garrett, had joined the blackjack game about an hour ago, introducing themselves when they'd sat down next to us. Though they were both model-like beautiful, they were easy to talk to, the conversation and laughter amongst the four of us flowing naturally.

"Thanks!" I smiled, clicking my martini glass against hers as she toasted our win. "I'm so relieved. I don't think I'm cut out for this gambling stuff. It's nerve-wracking."

Edward raked the stack of winning chips across the table, adding them to our stash. His fingers trailed up my back as he leaned into me, his mouth so near mine that I felt his warm breath. "Well done, Miss Swan." His lips molded to mine, soft yet unyielding. Needing to taste him, I swept my tongue along his lower lip, eliciting a low hum from him as his teeth nipped at my mouth.

"You're calling it from now on," he announced with a smirk, turning his attention back to the dealer.

I glanced at Kate, doing a double-take at her penetrating gaze. Kate's lips were parted, her eyes narrowed.

"I want some of _that_," she said so breathily it sounded like a purr. I'm not exaggerating—she purred like a cougar ready to pounce.

I stared at her blankly, trying to make sense of her words. Did she mean she wants my Edward?

"Some of _what_?" I asked warily, readying myself to tell her to back the fuck off from my man.

Kate's red-blood nails dragged a lock of her long, golden blonde hair away from her eyes, tucking it behind her diamond-laden ear. She smiled cheekily, draping her arm along the back of my chair and leaning into me. She was now as close to me as Edward had just been, her exotically beautiful face just inches from mine.

When she licked her lips, I couldn't help but stare at them. She had Angelina Jolie lips—perfectly symmetrical, full and pouty. "Have you ever kissed a woman, Bella?"

I think I stopped breathing for a few seconds, but my heart was beating so hard and fast against my chest, I knew I was still conscious. I turned my head, looking to Edward like a child seeking a mother's protection.

His astonished eyes were on me, his eyebrow cocked. Clearly, he'd overheard Kate's question. "Well?" he coaxed, a roguish smile spreading across on his face. "Have you?"

"What? No, of course not." I glanced at Kate, and that was when I noticed Garrett smiling at me. Everyone was looking at me.

"No," I said to Kate again before looking back at Edward. "Never."

I couldn't believe I was being hit on by a married woman. It was all at once disconcerting and titillating.

Edward waved his hand over his cards, the hand signal indicating to the dealer that he didn't want any more cards. Apparently, I'd missed out on this hand, what with being preoccupied with the blonde Russian goddess at my side wanting to kiss me.

"I have to say," Edward continued, his tone dark and provocative, "I wouldn't mind seeing that."

"Seriously?" My voice shot up an octave or two, I think. I gaped at him.

"Fuck, yes!" Edward chuckled, slowly nodding his head up and down. "But only if you want to, baby."

Why was I so surprised? After all, I wasn't a complete sexual nerd—I knew that most men had girl-on-girl fantasies.

"Let's give your man what he wants, shall we, Bella?" Kate's nails trailed up my bare arm, her hand resting on my shoulder. I twisted around in my seat to face her. "Who knows—you might even like it," she teased, her fingers caressing my shoulder.

"Okay," I stuttered, the word expelled along with a big breath I hadn't realized I was holding in. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas, right?

Kate smiled. Her hand left my shoulder and wound into my hair, grasping the back of my head and gently pulling me to her.

I closed my eyes just as her voluptuous lips touched mine. I gasped, caught off guard by the foreign feel of a feminine mouth. No whiskers here, that was for sure. Not only were her lips shockingly soft, but the skin around them was silky smooth.

Kate moved cautiously, kissing me so slowly and seductively that I heard myself whimper.

She smelled like vanilla—I wondered what she tasted like. As if she'd read my mind, her mouth parted just slightly. I reciprocated, opening up to her and gliding my tongue over her sensual lips. She tasted as good as she smelled. She gripped my hair, pulling me more tightly against her mouth as our tongues danced together, stroking and caressing.

"Sweet fucking Christ," Edward hissed, deep and breathy.

Hearing Edward's lusty expletive snapped me out of the moment, and I pulled away from Kate, gasping and giggling.

"Bella," she whispered, "do you find my husband attractive?"

"Is this a trick question?" I snickered nervously, glancing at Garrett whose predatory eyes were on me.

Kate smiled, shaking her head. "Not at all—I'd be flattered if you did."

"Okay, well, um . . . yeah, he's pretty easy on the eyes."

"I'm glad to hear it. So, we were thinking . . . maybe you and Edward would like to come to our room for a nightcap? I think the four of us could have a really good time with a little privacy."

"Oh! Um, you mean—" I glanced over my shoulder at Edward, but his attention was on his cards. "Are you—"

For the love of Pete, this bizarre situation had stripped me of my ability to speak. The way I was stumbling over my words, you'd think I was drunk, but I was only slightly buzzed.

Kate chuckled. "Yes and yes. I know that Garrett is drooling over you, and he's a very skilled lover. And I'd be more than happy to keep Edward busy. My husband is handsome, but your guy might just be the sexiest man I've ever laid eyes on."

Oh, my god—Edward and I were being propositioned, only he had no idea, his focus now on the card game. There was a part of me that was inclined to be offended, but Kate and Garrett were such warm, down to earth people, I just couldn't be. So I responded to Kate with sincerity rather than disdain.

"Yes, I know—Edward is stunning. And shockingly enough, he's as beautiful on the inside as he is on the outside. That sounds kind of cheesy I know, but it's absolutely the truth. That's why I'm the luckiest girl in the world. But, uh, to answer your question, Kate—I have no desire for any other man, including Garrett."

"Okay, that's cool. I get it." She paused, looking up at me through her lashes. "But you liked kissing me, right?"

I nodded, suddenly feeling shy and awkward.

"So then, come to our room, and we can pick up where we left off. You don't have to do anything with Garrett—our men could just watch. The way Edward reacted to us kissing, I have no doubt he'd approve."

"You and Garrett are swingers?" I blurted out my sudden epiphany.

Kate burst out laughing. "You just now figured that out?"

I chuckled along with her, rolling my eyes at my naiveté. "Well, yes, it just dawned on me."

"Bella, don't let the label scare you. Garrett and I have been married for eleven years, and we have two young children. We're just regular people."

"Really?" I was genuinely surprised. "You don't really match the picture I had of the typical swingers."

"I know." Kate nodded her head, smiling. "There's a rather negative stereotype out there, but the truth is that the vast majority of swingers are in long-term, highly-committed relationships, often with children. They're typically very family-oriented."

"Wow, I had no idea."

"So, back to me trying to seduce you." She smiled playfully and then leaned in close to me again, whispering, "There's something to be said for how well a woman knows a woman's body, how it works, and how it responds, that is very difficult for a man to learn. As a woman, I know how to please a woman."

_Holy hell._ I swallowed hard as her lips brushed against my ear. "Bella, I may not have a cock, but I can touch and lick and suck your pussy like no man can."

Oh, no, I couldn't be—I was turned on by a woman. Dirty talk was my weakness, and now there was a familiar throbbing sensation in said pussy area. It was tempting; I'm not going to lie. Not because I was into women, but my curiosity was now piqued.

Kate leaned back in her chair, her eyes on mine, waiting for my final answer. The temptation lasted only half of a second before I realized it wouldn't work for me because I didn't totally trust that she would not try to sink her claws into my gorgeous man if we were all naked in a room together. And secondly, she might be able to give me an earth-shattering oral orgasm, but I was never fully satisfied without an ample serving of cock, Edward's specifically.

"You're absolutely gorgeous, Kate, and I'm flattered—really I am. But I'm just not comfortable with that kind of thing."

She squeezed my arm. "I understand, but you can't blame a girl for trying, right?"

I chuckled, smiling warmly at her before turning toward Edward. I rubbed my hand along his thigh to get his attention. He wrapped his arm around my shoulders and pulled me against him. Resting my head on his chest, I tipped my head up to look at him. "You, me, naked—asap," I whispered.

In no less than three minutes, Edward had pulled himself from the game, scooped our winning chips up and dropped them into my purse, and we'd said our goodbyes to our new swinger friends, Garrett and Kate.

Edward practically dragged me across the casino floor toward the elevator, his long strides forcing me to have to nearly jog to stay with him. But I wasn't complaining. His urgency to get me alone was a huge turn-on, not to mention the girl kissing, Kate's dirty talk, and knowing that this bombshell of a woman wanted to fuck my man. All of it had combined to turn me into a horny mess of carnal desire. I wanted to fuck the hell out of him, loving him and marking him.

When the elevator doors closed, Edward's lips were on me, kissing me in a ravenous way. We were a mess of hands and legs, moving and groping chaotically.

Edward came up for air, breathing heavily. "Seeing you kiss her was the hottest fucking thing ever, I swear to god." He peppered soft kisses on and around my lips. "Did you like it, Bella Baby?"

"Yes," I whispered, sucking his luscious lip into my mouth and reveling in the sensation of his whiskers against my tongue. "Kate invited us to their room for sex," I mumbled nonchalantly.

Edward froze, pulling back and looking at me, his mouth hanging open. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Nope, not kidding. She wanted to fuck you, but when I said no to that, she wanted to fuck me." Edward's eyebrows shot up.

I trailed wet kisses along his jaw, which was once again hanging open in awe. "I turned her down, obviously. Kissing her was fun, but it didn't light me up like you do." I sucked on his warm neck one last time before lifting my eyes to meet his. "I'm addicted to cock, particularly _your_ . . . cockkk."

"Bel-laaa." He drew out my name, menacingly. "You really shouldn't have said that."

Before I could formulate a playful comeback, his hands were on my ass, hoisting me up and slamming me against the elevator wall. He silenced my "oh, fuck" with his hot, wet mouth, promptly wrapping my legs around his waist and thrusting his rock-hard cock against me, meeting the intended target with impressive precision.

"Edward," I hissed. Reaching up, I anchored my hands in his hair, kissing him hard and hungrily.

Hearing the elevator bell ring, I peeked to see if we'd arrived at our floor. _Damn_—_five more floors to go._ I closed my eyes and swiveled my hips upward, seeking more friction.

Though vaguely aware of the sound of the elevator door opening, I couldn't seem to will myself to remove my tongue from Edward's mouth. I was under his spell, unreservedly drunk with passion and need. There were muted voices and then quiet laughter, but it was dreamlike, as if they weren't really there. All that mattered—all that existed—was us.

The elevator chimed again, followed by the doors opening. Edward stopped kissing me but kept me wrapped around his torso as he turned around and left the elevator, leaving behind the couple who'd gotten an eyeful of us going at it.

Edward speed walked down the hallway in search of our room, his hands caressing and squeezing my ass along the way.

"I'm so in love with you, Edward," I whispered, sucking his earlobe into my mouth and then licking just below it. "Mmm, you taste so fucking good."

"Look at me," Edward commanded, stopping in front of our door. I pulled my face from the warm heaven that is his neck and looked into his eyes. "I'm crazy in love with you, too, Bella."

Holding me with one arm, he fumbled in his jeans pocket for the keycard. "I couldn't love you any more than I do, or I'd fucking burst," he continued. I grinned at him, euphoric with love and want.

He jammed the keycard into the door, unlocking it on the first try, thank you lord. Throwing the door wide open, he rushed across the room.

"I'm so hard for you—it's painful," he nearly shouted as he lowered me in front of the overstuffed red chair in the sitting area. "My jeans need to be off right the fuck now."

As soon as my feet touched the floor, I dropped my shorts and panties, watching him pull his shirt over his head and unbutton his jeans in less than three point five seconds. They dropped around his ankles, and like Pavlov's dog, my mouth salivated at the sight of his bobbing erection.

"Tell me what you want," Edward growled, his hands clenched at his side. "What are you addicted to?"

I had no problem at all answering his question, having become quite comfortable with my sexuality over the last few months. "I want your long, thick, hard cock inside of me." I stepped closer, wrapping my hand around it. He groaned, closing his eyes. "I want _you_, Edward."

His eyes flew open as his masculine hands gripped my hips, forcefully turning me away from him. He placed my hands on the high-back of the red chair in front of me, and I bent over as he pulled my hips toward him. I panted in anticipation, and when I felt the tip of his cock nudging my entrance, I groaned out loud. "Please, Edward," I begged.

With one, swift thrust, he filled me up, and we both moaned, muttering our feelings of love and carnality. Edward fucked me hard and fast, his cock ramming in and out of me at inhuman speeds. I arched my back, pushing my ass against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. The sound of sex was in the air—skin slapping against skin, his guttural groaning and cursing, and my loud, heavy breathing mixed with whimpers of pleasure.

Edward began to slow, his movements now long and leisurely. "Beautiful Bella. Fuck, I wish you could see this."

Gripping the chair tighter for stability, I turned my head, trying to see him behind me. His tousled hair hung over his forehead, and his tongue trailed over his upper lip. His biceps were slightly flexed, and the veins in his forearms bulged from the grip he held on my hips. He was hypnotized, his eyes looking down at our bodies coming together. "It's fucking amazing, seeing my cock disappear inside of you. I can see your pussy taking me in."

Hearing him say those words and watching his beautifully masculine body fucking me from behind tipped me over the edge. "Oh, god! Edward!"

Keeping my head turned so I could hold his gaze, I fell apart, my legs trembling and muscles contracting.

Edward wrapped his arm around my chest, securing me, and as he did so, he bent down, laying his chest on my back as he changed his pace, thrusting hard and fast. Once, twice, three times—he quietly groaned his release with his hands on my breasts and his eyes piercing my soul.

* * *

"I hope the Beatles Love show is around for a long time because I wanna see it again." Edward was like a dog with a bone—he just couldn't stop talking about last night's show.

"You liked it that much, huh?" I chuckled, looking up at him as we navigated the crowded sidewalk along the Vegas Strip. He was just too adorable. The Cirque du Soleil show with all Beatles music had been spectacular, but, ordinarily, I wouldn't pay to see it again. But for Edward, I would.

He nodded, his crooked smile and green eyes emanating happiness. "Maybe we could come back here when I get my first leave."

"Okay, sure." I squeezed his hand. "When do you think that will that be?"

"I'm not sure. Depends on how soon they ship me out, but probably in nine to twelve months."

Why had I even asked? I attempted to hide the anxiety bubbling up inside by keeping my eyes on the throngs of people we were maneuvering through.

"Okay," I mumbled, struggling to shut down the suffocating emotions. I didn't want to think about tours of duty or him being shipped out or anything remotely related to Edward being on the battlefield again, thousands of miles from me.

"Are you hungry?" he asked.

Good—I'd hid my abrupt mood change well, apparently. I didn't want anything to ruin our time here together. It had been magical so far.

"I'm ravenous." I wasn't kidding; I was so hungry after fucking for a couple of hours, we'd probably be at the buffet for at least that long.

We trudged up the stairs to the concrete bridge arching over the car-jammed Vegas Strip, which would take us to the Bellagio on the other side. We'd heard the Italian-themed hotel offered one of the best buffets on the Strip. Alice and Emmett had tired of waiting for us to emerge from our sex cocoon, so I'd texted her to go ahead to dinner without us. We'd planned to meet up with them later in the evening to watch the Fourth of July fireworks display together.

"I'd say you were ravenous in our room earlier," Edward said, his tone low and teasing as he dropped my hand, putting his arm around my waist and pulling me close. "But if I did my job well, you should be quite satiated."

"Oh, you did your job well, Mr. Cullen. Don't you worry about that." I smiled, slipping my hand into his back pocket and gently squeezing his ass. I was happily back in our magical bubble where reenlistment didn't exist.

Edward winked at me and leaned down, kissing my forehead as we neared the end of the bridge.

A loud booming noise rang out, followed by several popping sounds. Suddenly Edward wrapped his arms around my body, his hands gripping me hard as he ran, pulling me into the covered tunnel of shops at the end of the bridge.

"Get down," Edward ordered gruffly. I squeaked in alarm as he pushed me down low behind a pillar. Edward's entire body enveloped me, like a shell protecting a turtle. We were on the floor, on our knees, and his breathing was loud and panicked.

"Edward?" I tried to lift my head, but I could barely move.

"Stay down!"

I didn't know what to do. This was horrible—he was having a flashback in public, on the fucking Vegas Strip no less. He was going to be beyond upset and so embarrassed.

"Edward, listen to me," I continued, keeping my head down as he'd insisted. "That noise was fireworks, sweetheart. We're safe."

It was too early for the big fireworks display done by the hotels, but clearly, somebody was setting them off on their own, probably illegally.

I lifted my head slowly, his death grip on me easing as I looked up at him. His eyes were clenched shut, and his nostrils flared with labored bursts of air.

"Edward," I spoke softly, stroking his cheek, "you're with me, with Bella. You're safe. It was only fireworks."

His eyelids flipped open, and he looked at me. But his stare was vacant. He wasn't really looking at me—he was somewhere else. And then, like a windshield wiper sweeping across glass, with the next blink—he came back. Fear replaced the vacancy, and then just as quickly morphed into anger.

"I know that, Bella," he spewed disdainfully. "You're so gullible. I was just fucking around."

He stood up, turning away from me as he ran his hands through his hair over and over. I pushed myself up off the floor to go to him, but he turned on his heel, mumbling "come on" as he headed down the corridor without me.

"Edward?" I hollered.

He stopped and turned around, but he kept his eyes on the floor, his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked like a statue, every muscle strained and tensed. "Are you hungry or not?" he barked, his jaw flexing.

And with that, our happy, magical bubble ruptured once again.

* * *

**A/N: I had no intention of writing two lemons in this chapter (only one), but it's just the way it worked out. What can I say? Bella and Edward were horny fuckers in Vegas. I just wrote what they told me to write. ;) **

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	35. Leave Them On, Captain Cullen

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. **

**A/N: I cannot express my gratitude for the support of my talented, selfless betas: GuitarGirl, Mel/mcc101180, and Wiltshire Glo.**

* * *

_**Chapter 35 – Leave Them On, Captain Cullen**_

**~*~ **_**Bella**_** ~*~**

"While you're in the fridge, can you hand me the sour cream?" Alice grimaced, straining to open a jar of clams.

"Sure." I grabbed the sour cream along with the bottled water I'd originally been after, shutting the door with my foot. "I haven't had your clam dip in so long."

After handing her the sour cream, I took a long drink of cold water. I was parched from slaving in the kitchen for the last couple of hours while Alice and I prepared food for the party.

Technically, Alice was hosting it since she was the one who'd insisted on having a going-away party for Edward and me. But I wasn't about to let her shoulder all of the work and preparation. Besides, I wanted to spend as much time with her as possible before Edward and I flew to Texas in two days, and cooking together was a good way to do it.

I flipped on the oven light, peering through the glass at the potato skins. "Don't forget to email me your clam dip recipe so I can make it when I get a hankering for it in Texas."

"Yes, ma'am," Alice quipped. "Hey, did you remember to tell Edward to get some more vodka?"

"Yes, I gave him a list."

"I have got to find a way to slip him some money without him knowing. There is no fucking way I'm letting him pay for his own farewell party."

I chuckled. "Yeah, well, good luck with that."

Alice pulled a spoon out of the drawer and began stirring her famous dip. "If I was financially strapped, his insistence would be understandable, but I can afford it."

"But he can afford it even more," I countered. "That's the way he sees it, anyway."

The timer beeped, and I turned if off before opening the oven. The potato skins were sizzling, so I grabbed the oven mitts and pulled out the cookie sheet.

"So have you tried to talk to Edward again about what happened in Vegas?" Alice asked, her tone cautious.

I turned off the oven and started transferring the potato skins to a serving dish. "We talked about it yesterday. He finally admitted that he wasn't joking around."

After he'd reacted to the fireworks as though we were in a war zone, I'd followed him to the dinner buffet. After several minutes of eating in awkward silence, I'd tried again to talk to him about what had happened. When he'd responded with more denial and hostility, I'd decided to let it go and try to salvage the rest of the night.

Later, we'd met up with Alice and Emmett and watched the fireworks display. Oddly, Edward seemed fine, showing no signs of anxiety or flashbacks.

"Really? He admitted it?" Alice said excitedly. "That's progress, right?"

"No, not really," I mumbled. Sighing, I sat down at the kitchen table, taking another drink from my water bottle.

Alice turned around, sizing up my defeated demeanor. She quickly padded over to the refrigerator and put the dip inside before joining me at the table. "I don't understand."

"While he admitted that he wasn't playing around, he still won't acknowledge that his response to the fireworks explosion is cause for concern." I busied my fingers with the paper on my water bottle, nervously picking at it. "He said that he's been trained to respond quickly and efficiently to possible danger, and that's exactly what he did. He said it could just have easily been actual gunfire."

"Wow." Alice's eyes widened, her eyebrows raised. "That is some serious denial there."

I nodded in agreement.

"Bella, don't freak out on me, but have you considered that Edward's dad might be right?"

"What?" I snapped.

"You have to ask yourself if his condition might actually jeopardize his subordinates' safety when they're in dangerous situations over there. Will he even be the same kind of leader that he was before?"

"I understand your concern, but I honestly don't think that his ability to lead would be compromised. If anything, he's hyper-vigilant. I'm more worried about how another tour will affect _him_. The combat he's already seen fucked with his head. So what is he going to come back like after witnessing even more devastation, maybe losing another friend or men that he's responsible for?"

The sound of the front door opening was followed by Emmett's bellowing voice. "We have booze!"

Three hours later, I was tipsy and enjoying the company of close friends, family, and even some acquaintances from my ASU classes. Alice had outdone herself with the guest list.

I swallowed the last of the Appletini that Edward had made for me, my eyes scanning everyone in the family room, wanting to memorize their beautiful faces. The melodic voice of Daughtry blended with the low hum of conversations going on simultaneously.

Jasper leaned against the fireplace talking to Angela and Ben. I'd hoped he would bring a date tonight, but when we'd chatted earlier, he'd confided that he wasn't ready yet. His heart was still in mourning. I had no doubts that Alice had made the right decision—Emmett complimented her personality in a way that Jasper couldn't. They were simply amazing together. But I still felt so terrible for Jasper and hoped that he would find his other half sooner rather than later.

My mom and Phil were sitting on the sofa talking to Edward's sister, Rosalie. She'd surprised Edward by flying in from Seattle for the party, just to see him one more time. I'd offered to pick her up at the airport, but she'd insisted on taking a taxi so that Edward wouldn't suspect anything.

When the doorbell had rang just minutes after Edward and Emmett got back from buying the alcohol, I'd asked Edward to answer it, knowing that it was Rose. When I saw the shock and then the happiness on his sweet face, I'd giggled and bounced on my toes, nearly as excited as Edward. He'd hugged his little sister, lifting her up off the ground and peppering her cheeks with kisses.

Now, it looked like I might need to thank Rosalie for coming here by rescuing her from my mom. The glazed-over look in Rosalie's eyes was indicative of a Renee-overdose.

I sat my empty martini glass on an end table and bounded across the room on my mission of mercy. "Mom, I'm sorry to interrupt, but I need to steal Rose for a minute."

"Oh, sure, honey." My mom smiled, taking a sip of her wine.

Rose looked at me curiously, so I grabbed her hand and led her to the kitchen.

"My two favorite girls," Edward exclaimed as we walked in, raising his beer bottle and smiling in a giddy, drunken way.

Riley was leaning against the kitchen counter next to Edward. His deep brown eyes nearly bugged out of his head, conspicuously wandering up and down Rosalie's statuesque, feminine body. Oh, lordy, he was so friggin' obvious. Poor guy—he was likely going to strike out with Rose, like he had with me, because I knew she'd started dating somebody recently. Some guy named Felix. Edward had dubbed him Catman because he had a cat's name, according to Edward.

"Rosie, have you met Riley yet?" Edward asked, holding out his arm and tucking me against his side.

Rose sauntered up to Riley, her thumbs tucked in the front pockets of her form-fitting white jeans. "No, I most definitely have not," she answered Edward, though her eyes were on Riley.

After Edward formally introduced them, Rose asked Riley how he knew me.

"I met Bella through Jasper," Riley replied. "Have you met him?"

"Yes, I did—just briefly though. And he's Alice's ex?" She glanced between Riley and me, and I nodded my head.

Rose took a dainty sip from her beer as she rested her elbow on the counter, facing Riley. "So what do you do, Riley?"

"I'm a psychologist." He turned his towering body toward Rose, so now he had his back to Edward and me.

Rose's eyes lit up as she smiled. "Fascinating."

"And you?" Riley countered.

"I'm a civil engineer."

"No kidding." Riley smiled, holding Rose's penetrating stare. "Intriguing."

Holy hell—the sex pheromones in this room were combustible and nearly visible to the naked eye. I looked up at Edward, wondering what he thought about this most unexpected development between his sister and Riley. He winked at me, a big grin on his face, and then silently led me out of the kitchen. I don't think Rose or Riley even noticed our departure. I had a feeling that Catman was now out of the picture.

Later in the evening as the party was winding down, I found myself sitting on the couch with Emmett. My mom and Phil had left early. Jasper had taken off just a few minutes ago. Edward was on the patio with Ben and Angela. Riley and Rose were hunkered down at the kitchen table, glued to each other since they'd been introduced. Alice was in there with them, starting in on cleaning the kitchen.

"How's he been since Vegas?" Emmett asked out of the blue. How did he know I wanted to talk to him about this? Perhaps Alice had mentioned something to him.

"Um, he's been good, I guess?" I briefly summarized to Emmett my conversation with Edward yesterday—how he still didn't think his episode in Las Vegas was even an episode.

"Em, I'm really, _really_ worried how another tour is going to affect him. I don't know what to do. I can't tattle on him to the Army. Even if it was in his best interest, I just know that he would feel betrayed. He'd never forgive me."

"I agree. That's not really an option."

"But we've got to find some way to get through to him."

"Any ideas?"

"I've tried. God knows, I've tried every which way." I sighed, rubbing my temples at the alcohol-induced headache that was coming on. "Would you talk to him about it before we fly out, Em?"

"Of course, I will, but I wouldn't hold your breath. I've talked to him about it before."

"I was thinking maybe try a different approach? Instead of trying to get him to acknowledge that he has PTSD, make him promise that he'll answer their questions honestly. I know he has to undergo physical and mental evaluations when they process him in. If he's honest, they might be able to pick up on his problems, right?"

Emmett put his arm around me, squeezing my shoulder and pulling me to him. "I'll try, Bella. I promise."

* * *

Killeen, Texas was the perfect sized city at a population of around 150,000. Not too small like Forks and not too big like Phoenix.

I inhaled, breathing in the new-car smell of my pick-up truck as I waited for Edward to get us some coffee inside the 7-Eleven. He had convinced me to sell my well-used Honda before we left Phoenix, promising to buy me any car I wanted when we got to Texas. The only reason I was okay with this indulgence was that in my heart I knew we were _it_ for each other, and I knew that the cost of a new vehicle didn't even begin to make a dent in Edward's bank account.

We'd flown into Austin yesterday and then taken a cab to a car dealership. Edward wanted to buy me something with a high safety rating, like the Volvo he'd leased in Phoenix. But when I saw the cherry red truck, I'd fallen in love. It didn't take much more than a teasing nibble at my lip and a few kisses before Edward gave in. We'd then driven our new truck from Austin to Killeen and checked into a hotel.

Yesterday had been a long and tiring day of traveling, so this morning had arrived much too soon. I let out a big yawn, busying myself with testing out all the knobs and buttons on the dashboard.

Today we were house hunting; I hoped we'd find something right away. I didn't want to be living out of a hotel when I started my teaching job next week. Edward had insisted that he rent a house for us rather than an apartment. It wouldn't have bothered me at all, but he wanted the privacy that only a house could provide.

Looking up, I smiled when I saw him leave the store with two coffees in hand and a bag tucked under his arm. He was smoking hot, sporting his blue Yankees ball cap and Ray-Ban sunglasses. He'd opted for basketball shorts and a tank top this morning, after experiencing the blistering hell that is Texas in July. There really is something to be said for the dry heat in Phoenix. After just two minutes outside in Killeen, the humidity would suck out every bit of moisture from your body, resulting in dripping perspiration and frizzed hair.

I reached over the console, opening the driver's side door for Edward since his hands were full. He leaned in, handing me my coffee. "One hot coffee with sugar and amaretto creamer for my amazing girlfriend."

I grinned at his adorableness, thanking him with a quick kiss as he settled into his seat.

"And doughnuts," he added, handing me the bag.

"Mmm, I'm starving. Thank you."

Edward set his coffee in the cup holder and then pulled a folded piece of paper from his shorts' pocket. He tapped on the screen in the dashboard, pulling up the GPS software and began entering an address.

Of course, Edward had insisted on getting every upgrade available. It was a truck, but it felt like a luxury vehicle on the inside, completely decked out with leather seats, top-of-the-line stereo system, and a very handy GPS system.

Soon we were on the road, headed to the first rental house. I picked up the paper he'd set in the center console, looking at the list of rental houses we'd picked out together. "Edward?"

"Hmm?"

"Um, these aren't in any kind of order. Last night you said you were going to map them out, so we can look at them in order of location."

"I know, but I ran out of steam, I guess."

"Then why didn't you say something last night or even this morning? I would have done it myself."

"It's not a big deal, sweetheart. It'll be fine."

"It's just stupid—it's probably going to take us twice as long as it should to look at these houses because we'll be zig-zagging all over town." I folded my arms tightly, exasperated that I couldn't rely on him to do what he'd said he would.

"The town isn't that big, Bella," he said with a snort, slowing down as we approached a red light.

"I should have known better to rely on somebody else," I muttered under my breath, looking out the passenger window.

Abruptly, Edward's hand cupped my jaw, turning my head to look at him. "Don't speak to me like that," he said quietly, his tone grave. His eyes seemed to hold hurt rather than anger. "I don't deserve it."

A horn honking behind us ended the uneasy moment, and Edward quickly placed his hands back on the steering wheel, jamming his foot down on the accelerator.

_Oh, god, no_. I was doing it again, just like Jacob had said. When he'd left, he accused me of being too critical and controlling, saying that he just couldn't take it anymore.

"Edward, I'm so sorry," I choked, distressed by the sobering realization that I didn't have my controlling personality as in check as I'd thought. I warily glanced at him.

"Apology accepted." Edward blindly reached for my hand, keeping his eyes on the road. He lifted it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to my curled fingers. "I can't say I wasn't warned." He chuckled, releasing my hand so he could maneuver a turn.

"Huh?"

"Remember the second time we met? We were at the Louvre in Paris, and Alice joked about you being a stickler for having a detailed itinerary planned out."

"I can't believe you remember that," I mumbled, embarrassed by my anal-retentive tendencies. "I'm really sorry, Edward."

"I'm not," he said matter-of-factly. "You're the best thing to ever happen to me."

My god, I didn't deserve this beautiful man—so kind and forgiving.

"Riley says it stems from my childhood."

"Yeah?" Edward pulled our clasped hands over, resting them on his leg.

"With my mom being so erratic, I felt like I was walking on eggshells all the time when I was a kid. I had no sense of security. Riley says that control helps me feel safe."

"But you know as well as I do that control is an illusion, right?"

I met his eyes, not expecting that nugget of wisdom from him. Slowly, I nodded in agreement.

"So many external things can strip you of your perceived control over your life," he continued. "I learned that in the war zone, and you learned that when Jacob left you."

"That's _why_ Jacob left me—because I'm too controlling and bossy. I'm scared to death I'll drive you away, too."

"Not gonna happen, little swan."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Because now you're more self-aware, and you want to change that personality trait. Plus, I have no problem whatsoever telling you when you're out of line." He gave me that crooked smile I love so much, making me smile back and even chuckle a little.

And then I had an epiphany. "I just realized something kind of amazing. For a long time, I've taken on all of the burden, the guilt for my marriage not working. And I'm not saying that most of it wasn't my fault, but I just realized that Jacob is at fault too because he allowed me to be that way with him."

I sighed and took a sip of coffee, processing my thoughts. "For over three years, he never called me out on my shit. He just lay down and took it instead of establishing boundaries. He let it build up until he exploded and just left."

"Clearly, your personalities didn't complement each other."

"Promise me something, Edward?"

"Anything."

"Don't let me do that to you. Just . . . call me out on it, like you just did, okay? I don't want to be that way, but sometimes I don't even realize I'm doing it."

"I promise, sweetheart."

* * *

"I think the second house we saw is a possibility."

"I agree." Edward nodded. "But let's check out this last one before we make a decision."

"When we're done, can we drive by the high school before we go back to the hotel?"

"A little excited, are we, Miss Swan?"

"I'm beyond excited. I can't wait to see my classroom on Monday. I have a lot of posters and stuff that I bought in Europe that I'm going to decorate the room with."

"Skype came in handy. Without it, you would have had to fly out for that interview before the move."

"I know. I'm really blessed to have been hired. I was worried there wouldn't be any open positions."

"You're going to be a brilliant teacher, baby."

"This is nice!" I exclaimed as we came to a stop in front of a beautiful stone-façade house.

We'd called the listing agent earlier, and he had agreed to meet us. A balding gentleman stepped out of the black Escalade parked in the driveway. We made brief introductions with the agent and exchanged pleasantries as he unlocked the house. He explained that the house was vacant and fully furnished, which was ideal considering we'd moved with only our clothing and personal effects.

As soon as I stepped into the formal living room, the dark hardwood floors sold me. Later, when we entered the kitchen, I smiled, squeezing Edward's hand. "Do you like it?" I asked him expectantly.

"I think I could get used to cooking in a kitchen like this." He flashed me that smile that lights up a room.

"Yeah, it's perfect," I agreed, running my fingers over the dark walnut cabinets. "Granite countertops, too."

When we stepped onto the covered deck overlooking a huge, green backyard, Edward told him we'd take it. I silently grinned in agreement.

After Edward filled out the application and paid the application fee, the agent told us that he'd call us later after he ran the credit check.

"If everything checks out okay," he explained as he locked the front door, "I'll meet you here tomorrow morning at nine to turn over the keys and collect the deposit and rent."

We shook his hand and said our thank yous, practically skipping over to my shiny red truck, eager to start our new life in Texas together.

* * *

As I finished making our bed, I glanced at the clock on the bedside table, eager for Edward to get home. Today was the big day that I'd been dreading for months—Wednesday, July 25, 2007. He had officially reported for duty at the Ft. Hood Army base this morning at eight o'clock. That's "O" 800 hours in military-speak, Edward had informed me. It was now a little after four in the afternoon.

I padded off to the kitchen to give the marinara sauce another stir. I'd made spaghetti with store-bought meatballs for dinner, along with ready-to-bake garlic bread because I didn't want to spend much time cooking. I was preoccupied with decorating our new home.

I'd relegated some of the owner's framed artwork and knick-knacks to the garage and then spent the morning shopping for replacements that better matched my taste. I'd also picked up new bedding for our king-sized bed, as well as new towels. Edward had given me free reign with his credit card, telling me to enjoy myself. I wasn't a big shopper normally, but buying things to make our first home together our own was exhilarating.

I lowered the heat on the stove and turned around to get a soda from the fridge. I grinned, chuckling aloud as I focused my gaze on the countertop next to the refrigerator. No longer restricted to bedroom sex only, last night—our first night in the house—we'd christened the kitchen counter, just because we could.

My ears were on high alert, listening for the sound of Edward's new motorcycle coming down our street. After we'd moved into the house yesterday morning, we had spent a couple hours at another dealership buying him a motorcycle. It would be his transportation to and from the base, which was conveniently located just ten minutes away. I'd followed behind him in my truck on the way home, salivating all the way at the sight of my man on a motorcycle. His hotness factor on the bike was only going to be amplified once he was wearing his military fatigues.

As I popped the lid on the can of soda, my cell phone rang, playing Alice's ring tone— "I'm A Bitch, I'm A Lover"by Alanis Morissette. I didn't think Alice was a bitch, but she loved this song, and the girl power behind the lyrics certainly fit her.

I picked up my phone, greeting her. "So are you a bitch or a lover today?"

She cackled, answering my silly question matter-of-factly. "Considering I just had my way with Emmett on the sofa, I'd say I'm a lover."

"Nice!" I chuckled. "It's kind of awesome being able to do it wherever the mood strikes, isn't it?"

"You sound as though you know this from experience already. Do tell!"

"Kitchen countertop," I answered casually. "The height of the counter couldn't have been more exact if we'd had them custom made."

"The kitchen is definitely on my list."

We giggled together, two women in love and lust with the two most remarkable men in the world. I told her all about my day shopping and decorating, promising to text her some pictures of our new place.

Just ten minutes into our chat, the roar of a motorcycle sent my heart pounding. I quickly ended our phone call and turned off the stove, scurrying out to the garage. I was excited to see him in uniform but nervous to see his new military haircut. I was sure I would mourn the loss of his sex hair.

Waiting by the door, I watched with torturous anticipation as the electric garage door slowly opened, the idling of the motorcycle becoming louder. And then there he was—he'd been transformed back into a soldier. He drove into the garage sitting astride his motorcycle, decked out in camouflage fatigues, black combat boots, and a black motorcycle helmet.

After cutting the ignition, he removed his helmet, revealing his shaved head. Well, it wasn't shaved down to the skin—he had a bit of stubbled hair still there. But it was pretty damn short, like a buzz cut. He smiled at me sheepishly, nearly blushing. How does he do that—exude masculinity and boyish charm all at the same time.

I walked over to him, my hands covering my mouth. "Oh. My. God," I squealed dramatically.

Edward laughed at my theatrics, swinging his leg over the motorcycle and setting his helmet on the seat. He gripped my hips, pulling me against him as he pressed a firm kiss to my lips. "What does that mean exactly? Do you like it?"

I reached up, gingerly running my fingers over his head. It was still so soft, not prickly like I thought it would be. "Well, Captain Cullen, you know how much I love to tug on your hair, but I have to say, with all that sex hair out of the way, your handsome features are so much more prominent."

He laughed, dipping his head and capturing my lips with his once more.

"C'mon," I said, taking his hand and leading him inside. "Dinner is ready, and I want to hear all about your first day."

"I could get used to this."

"Me too, baby." I led him to the kitchen table, dropping his hand so I could start getting dinner on the table.

"What can I do to help?" he asked, always the gentleman. I needed to remember to thank Esme someday for teaching him so well.

"Just sit down and relax. I've got it," I said cheerfully, opening a kitchen cabinet. I pulled out a couple of plates and turned to set them on the table, stopping in my tracks.

Edward had taken off his button-down camouflage shirt and was draping it over the back of his chair. He looked up, catching me staring like a deer in headlights.

"What?" He chuckled, utterly clueless as to his sex appeal. I mean, _really_. The man exuded pure sex, standing there in his army pants, combat boots, a white wife beater with dog tags around his neck, and sculpted biceps on display.

"You're so fucking hot. I just . . . _god_," I mumbled, shaking my head and setting the plates on the table. "I can't take it."

"You can't take it?" he repeated, his brows furrowed and a corner of his mouth twisting up in a teasing smirk as he closed the distance between us. "I'm fairly certain you _can_ take it. It's a tight fit, I'll give you that, but you take it so fucking well."

_Oh, my dirty-mouthed boy._ I launched myself at him, wrapping my arms and legs around him as I essentially tried to climb him. His hands settled on my ass, lifting me up. I kissed him hungrily, wet and wild. No longer having his long locks to tug, my hands roamed all over his head, stroking it.

I was lost in desire, just vaguely aware of movement. Edward was carrying me down the hallway, and then we were in our bedroom. He set me on the edge of the bed, and I lay back, allowing him to tug my shorts and panties down. I looked up at him, breathless. He tugged off the wife beater and then bent down, beginning to untie his combat boots.

"No! Leave them on, Captain Cullen," I pleaded, smiling coyly.

He dropped the laces and stood back up, smiling cockily at me as his long fingers slowly unzipped his army pants, his always-impressive erection bursting out. Thank god for Captain Commando. I reached my hand out, needing to touch him, but he gripped my wrist, stopping me. He pushed me back on the bed and then his tongue was on me—one firm, long lick all the way up to my clit.

I gasped at the sudden stimulation. "Yes, yes, yes," I chanted.

And again he licked me, and then a third time before his lips suctioned around my clit. He sucked me into his mouth, his tongue flicking the already engorged flesh. As the sweet pressure mounted, he suddenly stopped and pulled my body toward him until my ass was at the edge of the bed. His hands rested on my knees, pushing them back as he thrust himself into me. And we lost ourselves in each other, finding bliss, again and again.

* * *

Memories from only fifteen minutes ago flashed across my mind like a movie projector—hot metal dog tags skimming between my breasts with each thrust, his eyes somehow now more emerald than hazel, his lashes longer than they were yesterday, and his jawline more angled. Mostly, I kept reliving the look of adoration in those beautiful eyes of his as he'd made love to me.

I leisurely swirled my spaghetti around my fork, glancing up at him as he talked about his day at the base.

"It was a written evaluation. It took quite a while to complete it. 170 questions."

"What kind of questions?"

"It was a physical and psychological eval."

I nodded, contemplating how I could ask him if he'd answered the questions truthfully without insulting him. Emmett had told me he'd talked to Edward about it the day before we left Phoenix, stressing the importance of being forthright in his answers on the evaluation. I took a bite of my pasta, slowly chewing, deep in thought. But I was coming up with nothing, so I just listened to Edward talk, hoping for the best.

"I ran into an old buddy of mine. We went through boot camp together when I first joined. He's been active duty this whole time, so he's a Lieutenant Colonel now."

"So it's been a while since you last saw him?"

Edward nodded as he chewed. Swallowing, he continued, "Yeah, I haven't seen him since boot camp, so . . . that was five years ago."

Edward set his fork down, his hand reaching up to rummage through his no-longer-there hair. Instead, he rubbed his scalp, his face contemplative.

"What's wrong?"

His eyes flew to mine, probably surprised that I could read him so well.

"Uh, well, I've been dreading telling you this all day. I thought about putting it off for a while, but I think it would be best if you have time to mentally and emotionally prepare."

My fork dropped from my hand, clanking against the plate. He was scaring me. "Stop with the build-up, Edward. Just tell me."

"My friend I was telling you about? He's high up now, so he's in the know. He told me that as long as all my testing checks out that they plan to include me in the next deployment. I wasn't really surprised—they need people with combat experience."

I pushed my half-eaten plate of spaghetti to the middle of the table, my appetite gone. "And when is the next deployment?"

Edward stared at his glass, his fingers repetitively tapping it. Finally, he looked at me, worry etched in his features. "In four weeks," he said quietly, almost a whisper.

My old companion, Fear, suddenly materialized, squeezing me in greeting until my chest ached. I had thought I was prepared for this; I'd known for months that this time would come. But _knowing_ it would happen and it _actually_ happening were two very different things.

I closed my eyes and breathed in through my nose, holding it for a few seconds before slowly exhaling, again out through my nose like Riley had taught me. _I am calm; I am peaceful; I am serene, _I chanted silently.

"Bella?" he croaked, his voice breaking. Fear had found him, too, strangling my name as it fell from his lips.

Behind my eyelids, vibrant colors pulsed, mixing with darkness when out of nowhere an unexpected sense of peace filled me. Dread retreated, and in its place, a warm presence of clarity appeared.

I opened my teary eyes with purpose, dropping to my knees in front of Edward. He looked down at me, his gorgeous features twisted in a grimace. He was petrified.

"Captain Edward Anthony Cullen," I said, my voice strong and sure as I clasped both of his hands in mine, "marry me."

* * *

**A/N: We're coming into the home stretch! I anticipate 1-2 more chapters and then an epilogue. How can it end that soon, you ask, when there is still a major issue to resolve? Faith, ladies, have faith! **

**Don't forget to check out the pictures that accompany the chapters, including this one. See their new house, Bella's truck, etc. **

**Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. **

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	36. Please Continue, Captain Cullen

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. **

**A/N: Please note that I've done my best to be as accurate as possible with details about re-enlistment, rank, psych evals, etc, by researching online, but I'm sure that not everything is absolutely how it would be in real life. So just go with it, okay?**

**GuitarGirl, Mel/mcc101180, and Wiltshire Glo are my valued support on this journey. I can't ever thank you enough, ladies! **

* * *

_Behind my eyelids, vibrant colors pulsed, mixing with darkness when an unexpected sense of peace filled me. Dread retreated, and in its place, a warm presence of clarity appeared. _

_I opened my teary eyes with purpose, dropping to my knees in front of Edward. He looked down at me, his gorgeous features twisted in a grimace. He was petrified._

"_Captain Edward Anthony Cullen," I said, my voice strong and sure as I clasped both of his hands in mine, "marry me."_

**Chapter 36 – Please Continue, Captain Cullen**

**~*~ **_**Bella**_** ~*~**

"You . . . how . . . you want to get married?"

Considering that Edward's petrified expression had transformed into one of bewilderment, I should have felt uneasy rather than calm. He was looking at me as though I'd spoken Chinese, but somehow I was serene and hopeful.

I nodded, smiling up at him. "Yes, more than anything."

"But . . . I just," Edward stammered. "Aren't you—"

"You're killing me here," I interrupted, my sense of calm rapidly deteriorating. I'd thought I was completely secure in his love for me, but his hesitation was like a weed, penetrating the cracks in my carefully rebuilt sense of self-worth. "It's too soon?"

"Yes, of course! I mean, no, no. It's _not_ too soon," he sputtered, chuckling at his incoherency. He held my hands up to his mouth, gently kissing my knuckles. "Bella, I've known that I wanted you to be my wife for a while. Ever since I sat by your bedside in the hospital, to be exact. I just didn't think _you_ wanted that—at least not until I'm done with my overseas tours. Not until you felt more secure and knew that I was safe."

Oh, lordy, what a relief. He'd scared me for a minute there. Peacefulness returned to my psyche, along with a dose of giddiness. "Then you will make me the happiest woman alive and marry me?"

He beamed, his smile broad and electrifying. "Yes, Bella Baby, yes," he shouted, scooping me up from the floor and onto his lap, our mouths melding together.

The kiss was sensuous, his lips moving tenderly against mine. He pulled back, cradling my face in his enormous hands. "I love you so much," he rasped, giving me a quick peck.

I wiped the wetness from his cheeks with my fingertips, drying them with a slathering of kisses all over his face as my own tears trickled freely. "I love you more."

"Planning a wedding should keep you busy." Edward's fingers combed through my hair, twirling the ends around them. "Maybe it'll help the time that I'm gone pass more quickly for you."

"Oh, um, well . . . that's not quite what I had in mind."

His eyebrows scrunched up in that adorable way that I love—"the crinkly brow, I call it. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," I said coyly, leaning over and sucking his pouty lower lip into my mouth, "that I want us to get married before you deploy."

Now the crinkly brows morphed into the erect brows—"they popped up to the top of his forehead, his eyes wide. "But I leave in a few weeks."

"Uh-huh, I know."

"But don't you want a big wedding?"

"Not particularly." I'd been there, done that. I paused, realizing that Edward never had. It would be his first, and hopefully last, marriage. "Do _you_ want a big wedding?"

"Hell, no," he spat, laughing and kissing me and then laughing some more. "But why the rush, sweetheart?"

My fingers busied themselves twirling his dog tags and trailing through the sprinkling of hair on his chest. "I still have to actively work to keep my fears of something happening to you in check—you know I'm still having sessions with Riley—but running away from you is no longer an option. And if the worst was to happen, I think it would give me some peace knowing I was bound to you. I need to be yours in every way before you go."

"Oh, sweet Bella." His chiseled arms engulfed me, pulling my chest flush against his and hugging me tightly. "We don't need a piece of paper from the government to make our connection real or valid, but I will happily give that to you. And I do kind of like the idea of everyone knowing that we're bound—that you're mine."

I nuzzled against him, my cheek soaking up the warmth of his chest as he stroked my hair. I couldn't remember ever being this happy.

**~*~ **_**Edward**_** ~*~**

I stepped aside, holding the commissary door open for a female private as she entered. She looked nervous as she eyed my rank, squeaking out a "Thank you, Sir" as she breezed by. I took off, walking as quickly as I could without actually jogging. Ripping open the package of gum that I'd just bought, I anxiously popped two pieces into my mouth, instead of the cigarette that I was craving. I'd been cigarette-free now for only a few weeks, and I was feeling a little apprehensive about the psychological evaluation that I was due at in less than three minutes.

I walked and chewed with purpose, distracting myself with the sweet memory of Bella proposing to me two nights ago. I never saw it coming. Because it was so unexpected, the whole experience was that much sweeter.

When I'd called Emmett the next day to share the news, he'd congratulated me but then went on to tease me mercilessly.

"Dude, the guy is supposed to propose!" he'd chided.

"Hey, I'm a modern, equal opportunity man."

"Seriously though—what the hell are you going to say when people ask how you proposed to your wife?"

"I'll proudly tell them the story of how _Bella_ proposed to _me_." But I had to dish him some bullshit right back—it's just the way we roll. "I think you're just jealous that your woman didn't get down on her knees and propose to you."

"No, she didn't propose, but she did get down on her knees just last—"

"Hold the fuck up! I do not want that visual."

I chuckled to myself, the memory easing my angst. I entered the medical building with only one minute to spare and tossed my chewed gum into a trash can just inside the door. If I could, I'd chew it throughout this ridiculous psych eval, but gum-smacking wasn't exactly becoming of an officer.

I checked in at the desk, and just as I picked up a magazine, my name was called. I saluted the major as I approached him, after which we exchanged introductions and pleasantries while I followed him to his office.

Once he was behind his desk, he got right down to business. "Captain Cullen, I'd like to ask you some questions, just to clarify some things that you wrote on the written evaluation you took earlier this week."

"Yes, Sir."

"When asked if you have nightmares, you answered affirmatively. You also indicated that these occur more than three times per week." Major Uley looked up from the papers he'd been perusing. "I'd like to discuss the nature of these dreams."

If Major Uley wasn't my superior and if this evaluation wasn't required, I'd tell him to go fuck himself. I don't talk about my dreams, except that one time with Bella. Why do people always want me to talk about horrific shit? They're like those people that can't look away when they drive by a car accident; they're morbidly curious about the gruesome bullshit I've seen. But here, I had no choice but to play the game and answer the questions.

Clearing my throat, I pulled my military cap from my head, needing something to occupy my hands. "Mostly I dream about Winters," I mumbled, staring at my hat.

Major Uley thumbed through the stack of papers on his desk. "You're referring to Specialist James Winters?"

"Yes, Sir."

He nodded his head, still looking down. "Please continue, Captain Cullen."

* * *

"Where do you want it, beautiful fiancée of mine?" I picked up the box sitting by the front door that Alice had mailed to Bella. I'd been living happily on cloud nine ever since Bella had asked me to marry her exactly one week ago today.

"Here on the coffee table, please." Bella smiled, a faint blush on her cheeks. She sat down on the sofa and leaned back, watching me cross the room.

"What?"

"Oh, don't mind me. I'm just admiring the way your arm muscles tense with the weight of that box."

I winked at her as I set the box down in front of Bella.

"And have I neglected to mention how fond I am of your evening attire as of late?" Her tone was playful and sexy.

I glanced down at my white wife beater and fatigue pants. We'd just finished dinner, so I hadn't changed yet. I still had my fucking boots on which I knew drove her wild. "I'm glad you approve because this is what I'll be wearing for another three years."

I took my keys out of my pants' pocket and opened the pocket knife on my Leatherman.

"You're like MacGyver there with that thing."

"Nah, he makes his tools on the fly." I swiped the mini-knife through the tape like butter, opening the box flaps and scooting it across the table closer to her. "MacGyver's in a league all his own."

"What does your little gadget have in there besides a knife?"

I grinned, feeling like I was six years old and I'd just been asked to show off my new big boy tooth. "This little gadget, Miss Swan," I explained, "is called a Leatherman."

One by one, I pulled out each tool, proudly introducing them. "I've got scissors, tweezers, a screwdriver . . . let's see . . . oh, here's a nail file." I chuckled, flipping it around and opening the other side. "I even have a fucking bottle opener here."

"Oh, yeah, cause you never know when you might have an emergency where you need to open a bottle of beer _immediately_," she teased, smirking at me.

"You dare jest about such important things?" I arched a brow in mock derision. "Having easy access to my beer is critical."

She giggled, turning her attention to her box that was full of literary-related souvenirs she'd purchased while traveling through Europe.

"I almost forgot—it even has a ruler." I held it out, pointing out the numbered measurements on the side of the gadget. "Though I'm not sure it's good for much since it only measures up to nine inches."

Bella cocked a brow. "I can think of something I could measure with that."

I didn't know why I was still always shocked when Bella showed her racy side. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but I'm so fucking glad that I'm not. She is the perfect woman for me—an intoxicating combination of sweet and sassy.

"You are not getting anywhere near my junk with this thing, with its scissors and knives and tweezers."

Bella snickered, shaking her head as she started looking through a book she'd taken out of the box.

I plopped down on the sofa next to my girl, exhausted from a long day at the base. After setting my keys on the coffee table, I began unlacing my boots. "Have you met many of the other teachers yet?" I asked her.

"Just a few. There's been a lot of administrative meetings and going over curriculum, so not much time to chat." Pulling off the rubber band, she unrolled one of the posters. "Oh, I forgot about this one. I'm definitely going to use it in my classroom." She angled it so that I could see that it was a Shakespeare poster.

I nodded, smiling. "I remember when you bought that in Stratford." I leaned back on the sofa, stretching out my legs on the other end of the coffee table. "Will you get to teach any Shakespeare?"

"Yep," she quipped, rolling the poster back up. "I really didn't expect it, but _Julius Caesar_is on the curriculum for my class of seniors."

"Those kids are probably going to think it's pretty cool when you tell them you've been to the house Shakespeare was born in." I turned on the television, flipping channels before stopping on the local news.

"Yeah, I'm pretty excited to meet my students. Five more days," she squealed, not even attempting to temper her enthusiasm, which was fucking adorable.

She continued pulling memorabilia out of the box, making different piles, presumably deciding what she wanted to take to the school with her tomorrow.

"Is it tomorrow that you have another appointment with that psychiatrist?"

"Mmmm," I answered, nodding my head and keeping my attention on the television. Maybe my disinterest would dissuade her from continuing with this topic.

"When you met with him last week . . . um, well, you didn't say much about it. What was it like?"

"He asked about nightmares."

"Oh?"

I stared intently at the television, feigning fascination with a commercial for some drug to treat overactive bladder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bella turn around and continue going through her stuff. Thank fuck!

I changed the channel, the possible side effects of the drug going on ad nauseam.

"So . . . did you . . . did you," Bella stammered, "tell him about your nightmares? I mean, I know you don't like to talk about them."

I sighed, blowing out a gust of air really fucking loudly. I wasn't trying to be a dick—this bullshit was just hard to talk about. "Yes. I told him." I glanced at her.

She smiled hesitantly, nodding. "Good."

Changing channels again, I finally settled on _Pawn Stars_.

"Did you happen to mention to him what happened in Vegas?"

"No," I grunted, trying to control my rising temper.

"Maybe you should?"

"Why?" I huffed derisively, my eyes still glued to the television.

"Because he needs to have a complete picture of everything, so that he can accurately determine if you're okay to go back into combat situations."

"What do you mean—_if_ I'm okay!?" I shouted, snapping my head in her direction and tossing the remote on the sofa. "You don't think I can do my fucking job?"

Bella flinched, and I immediately felt like shit for scaring her, but that remorse vanished as soon as she came at me with another question.

"No, baby, it's just— " She sighed, setting a stack of postcards in her hand back into the box and turning toward me. "What would happen if . . . say

. . . um, you had a flashback during a critical operation?"

"That has happened only one time, Bella! This is fucking ridiculous."

"Edward, I'm sorry." Scurrying across the sofa, she straddled my lap. She peppered soft kisses along my jaw and down my neck, my anger diminishing with each touch of her lips. Instinctually, I wrapped my arms around her, rubbing her back.

"Forget what I said, but just promise me one thing." Her mouth brushed across my lips as she rested her forehead against mine. "Promise me that you'll answer everything he asks you, honestly and completely, even if you think it's irrelevant. Please?"

I looked into her bottomless chocolate eyes, so rich and warm. I could deny her nothing. "I promise," I whispered against her soft lips as I kissed them.

* * *

I was really fucking worried. Since that first meeting with Major Uley last week, I'd been called back in three more times. And now here I sat in this same fucking waiting room yet again. This was not standard protocol. The first psych eval should have also been the last.

I was seriously regretting ever following Emmett's advice to answer the written evaluation honestly. I should have just marked "no" to the question about whether I had nightmares. No one would have been the wiser. How the fuck would they know if that was the truth or not?

I think it's pretty fucking normal to have bad dreams about a traumatic experience, so I had assumed that answering the question honestly would be harmless. Apparently, I was mistaken. They'd latched onto that topic, and then it was like Pandora's fucking box—question after question, from nightmares, to flashbacks, to uncontrolled anger. They kept digging, deeper and deeper, all because I'd said I had more than three fucking nightmares a week.

And, fuck me, because over the last few meetings with Uley, I'd been brutally honest about everything because that's just the kind of person I was. I couldn't lie for shit, and if I ever did, I _felt_ like shit. Not to mention, I'd had my Bella's voice in my head, urging me to lay it all out there. And I'd fucking promised her that I would, so that was what I did—I had told Major Uley everything.

A few minutes passed in which I busied myself chewing my gum like it was my last meal and bouncing my leg like a crackhead in need of a fix.

Finally, I was called back to Uley's office. We exchanged pleasantries before he sat down behind his desk and opened my file.

Leaning back in his chair, he let out a heavy sigh as he folded his arms. "Captain Cullen, please tell me what you know about Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder."

_What the fuck?_

* * *

My proposal plan was fucked. Everything was fucked. We'd been in Killeen for almost two weeks, and Bella had started teaching a few days ago. We were both beyond happy. Well, except for all these fucking psych evals that had me on edge. But, mostly, I was happier than I'd ever been.

I had made dinner reservations at the highest-rated restaurant in Austin for tomorrow night, and Bella's engagement ring, previously my grandmother's, was hidden in a suitcase at the top of the closet. My mom had overnighted it to me last week when I'd called and told her about our engagement. I was going to do a little proposing myself and put a ring on Bella's finger.

But Major Uley changed all of that this afternoon when he officially diagnosed me with Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. He explained that he'd already made recommendations to my superiors that I should not return to combat in any form. I tried to argue my case, believe fucking me, I did. But he said that it was a done deal—I would serve stateside, training incoming privates. _Un-fucking-believable!_

That the U.S. Army had no faith in me to do a job that I was commended for was fucking mortifying. But at the very same time, I was utterly relieved because it meant that I wouldn't have to leave Bella. My emotions were so conflicted, I was certain the collision of contrary thoughts bouncing around in my brain would cause my head to fucking explode.

I gunned the throttle of my motorcycle, the vibrations of the machine matching the throbbing in my head. I found some kind of weird comfort in blasting down the highway on my bike, the hot fury of the engine mirroring my own.

When I pulled into the garage, I turned off the engine and removed my helmet, wiping away the sweat on my brow with my sleeve. What was I going to tell Bella? Of course, she'd be ecstatic that I wouldn't be leaving her, but—_goddamnit_—I did not want to tell her _why_. I was fucking embarrassed.

I reluctantly dragged myself off my bike, knowing Bella would come looking for me if I didn't get my ass inside the house.

As I walked into the kitchen, she whirled around in front of the stove, her eyes lighting up. "Hello, handsome," she said cheerfully, winking at me.

I breezed by her, quickly pecking her lips. "I need a quick shower," I mumbled, leaving the kitchen before she could answer. I needed more time to process everything; I just didn't know what the hell to tell her.

I tossed my keys on the bureau and sat down on the bed. After removing my fatigue button-down shirt, I started unlacing my boots.

"Something's wrong." Her voice was soft but so unexpected that I flinched, looking up at her. She stood in the open doorway, looking at me expectantly.

Couldn't she just give me a fucking minute? I pulled one boot off, dropping it on the floor, and then started on the other one. I needed a hot shower to try to relax, to get some control over the rage surging through me.

Dropping my other boot to the floor, I started to stand up to take my pants off, but suddenly Bella was in front of me.

"Edward, you're scaring me." Her gentle hands caressed my jaw, tipping my head back until I looked into her eyes. "Please tell me."

"There's no reason to be scared. In fact, you'll be quite happy about it." I cringed, hearing my acerbic tone—I hadn't meant it to come out that way. "My deployment has been revoked. I'll be serving my three years here."

Her eyes grew wide like saucers. I pulled back, causing her hands to drop down.

"You're angry, really angry, but . . . why? You want to go over there and not see each other for months?"

"I don't fucking know! The thought of being away from you is unbearable, but— " I stood up, nudging Bella back. I felt like I was suffocating.

I took off my dog tags and walked over to the bureau, dropping them next to my keys.

"But?" she continued, urging me on.

I turned around and faced her. "But so is staying here, enjoying life, when James is dead in the ground, and when some of the men I served with are still over there, away from their wives and their children." I was yelling, my frustration at a fever pitch, urging me to move, to release the mounting energy threatening to explode.

I began moving around the room in circles, my hands pulling at my hair. "Why the hell should I get a free pass?"

"Edward!" she said incredulously. "You didn't get a free pass. You did your time, more than once."

"Well, you haven't even heard the clincher yet." I rolled my eyes, my laughter maniacal. "They diagnosed me with fucking PTSD. So I guess you're off the hook now, Bella. You don't have to marry my fucked-up self since I'm not going anywhere!"

I paced back and forth in front of the bed, staring at the floor. But her silence forced me to look up and meet her eyes.

She looked utterly devastated, her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes heavy. "You think I don't want to marry you now?" she whispered, her nose wrinkled like she'd smelled something bad.

"You and I both know that you wouldn't have proposed if it wasn't for the impending deployment. Don't even try to deny it."

Bella stomped over to me and grabbed hold of my forearms, forcing me to stop in my tracks. "The deployment was the reason to get married _quickly_, but it was _not_ the reason, Edward. You have to know that."

"C'mon, Bella—things have changed since then, since you asked me. Now you know you'd be saddling yourself with somebody with a fucking mental disorder. You can't tell me that doesn't give you pause."

Her eyes narrowed. "Yes, I _can_ tell you that," she snapped. "It has not given me pause, not even a millisecond of a pause." Her hands trailed up my arms, settling around my neck.

"You listen to me, Edward Cullen. You will get through this," she said authoritatively, yet her tone was now soft and consoling. "And I'm going to be by your side helping . . . because I love you."

Her love for me was stronger than my demons. I let myself go, falling into her and gripping her body like my life depended on it. I buried my face in her sweet-smelling neck, the tears flowing freely for the second time in as many weeks.


	37. I Love You Because I Know No Other Way

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. **

**A/N: GuitarGirl, Mel/mcc101180, and Wiltshire Glo keep me on my grammar toes.**

* * *

**Chapter 37 – ****I Love You Because I Know No Other Way**

**~*~ **_**Bella**_** ~*~**

"We were supposed to get married today, down at the courthouse," I blurted, after grilling Riley about Rose.

My therapy session via Skype had ended a few minutes ago, but I'd kept online to get the scoop. Riley and Rose had been inseparable at our going-away party, but I didn't know if they were going to attempt a long-distance relationship.

I was thrilled when Riley told me they'd kept in touch over the last few weeks—texting, calling, and even Skyping. Edward's sister had found herself a wonderful man, and I sincerely hoped that it would last.

"You both agreed it would be best to wait to get married, in light of Edward's diagnosis. Yet I hear some melancholy in your voice," Riley correctly assessed. "Where is that coming from?"

"I'm conflicted. There's no rush now that Edward's not deploying, and logically, I know that getting married when he's dealing with his diagnosis and treatment would be too much for him. But . . . I don't know . . . I was looking forward to becoming Bella Cullen, I guess."

"But you still will be someday. You know that, right?"

"Yes, I know it'll happen when the timing is right. I'm just a little sad that it's not now."

Riley nodded. "You're allowed that. Just don't get stuck there. Grieve it, and then let it go and live in the present."

"I know, I know. 'Thoughts become things—choose the good ones.' I think you've successfully drilled that little adage into my head."

He chuckled. "Good to know I'm doing my job effectively."

"Edward's first therapy session is today," I blurted out what had been on my mind all day.

"Aaand?" He drew the word out, prompting me to continue.

"And I'm nervous. I don't know what to expect, and I don't know whether I should push him to talk about it or not."

"You should be prepared for him to come home in not the best of moods. He'll still be dealing with all the negative emotions that the session will inevitably stir up. His psychologist will have already pressed him to talk, so you should provide him a no-pressure environment."

"Okay, that makes sense," I agreed, sighing. "Thank you so much, Riley, for everything."

"You're welcome, Bella."

* * *

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Edward answered gruffly, setting his keys on the kitchen table.

I moved in front of him, taking his hands in mine. "Are you hungry?"

Edward nodded and lowered his head to the curve of my neck, his lips grazing my skin.

"I didn't cook tonight. I was hoping we could go to that Italian place we saw the other day?"

"Sure. Let me change first."

An hour later, we were seated in a cozy corner of an upscale bistro, salivating over the best fried calamari I'd ever had. The mussels in marinara sauce were pretty delicious as well.

"I didn't have time to cook tonight because I got home from school just in time for my therapy session with Riley."

"It's fine, baby," Edward mumbled quietly. He wasn't in a bad mood as Riley had predicted. Rather than outward anger as I'd expected, he was subdued and introspective.

"Have you talked to Rose lately?" I didn't think he had, but I wasn't sure.

"No, not since the party."

I told him what I'd found out, that Riley and Rose were trying to do the long-distance thing. He didn't have a lot to say about it, except that Riley seemed like a good guy.

"Riley told me that I probably won't need PTSD therapy for much longer. I haven't had a nightmare for a few weeks now."

"Yeah, I noticed that." He pushed his appetizer plate to the side and slid his hand along my thigh. "You're the strongest woman I know."

"Really?"

"Yes, really." He raised an eyebrow. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"Because I have PTSD, which according to you, means that I'm fucked up, that I have a mental disorder."

Setting his beer bottle on the table with a loud thud, he squinted his eyes, his forehead wrinkling. "What the hell? I have never said that about you."

I took a drink of my ice water, steeling myself. I wouldn't push him, but perhaps I could leave subtle openings for him to talk about his diagnosis and the Army-mandated psychological treatment.

"But you said that about yourself. So if that's true about you, then it must be true about me."

Edward blinked, his mouth opening and then closing again.

"When Riley diagnosed with PTSD a few months ago, did you think that made me weak?"

His eyes went wide. "No!"

"Mentally ill?"

"Bella!" he scolded. "Of course not."

"Then why is it any different for you? Perhaps you could extend yourself the same courtesy, the same non-judgmental compassion that you gave me."

Edward's silence continued as he turned his attention away from me and onto the label on his bottle of beer.

"Do you think I'm doing better than I was a few months ago?" I continued.

He nodded, his fingers picking at the label. "You're not as jumpy as you were. And fewer nightmares, like you said."

"So, then you would agree that therapy for PTSD can work, that it can be effective?"

Edward let out a heavy sigh, his jaw flexing. I waited, wondering if he was going to reply. Finally, he answered, his tone begrudging, "I suppose so."

While chewing a mouthful of calamari and contemplating whether I should let the topic pass, Edward spoke again, "Maybe you should have been a lawyer."

"Is that supposed to be an insult or a compliment?" I smiled, tracing his jawline with my finger.

Edward looked at me, a broad smile covering his entire face. It was the first one of the night but not the last if I had anything to do with it. "Hmm, maybe a little of both?"

* * *

Motorcycles are sexy—an aphrodisiac on wheels, I'd recently discovered. The first time I'd ridden with Edward, I was both nervous and excited. When he'd leaned the bike, tightly hugging a corner as he turned, I couldn't help but hold my breath in fear that we'd fall all the way over. But after a couple of times riding with him, my anxieties had dissipated, making room for exhilaration and desire.

Now, the masculine roar of the engine vibrating between my legs and the feel of Edward's hard body molded to mine was something I couldn't seem to get enough of.

Sitting behind him on the bike as we roared down the street following our delicious Italian dinner, I had full access to his body, with my arms wrapped around his torso and my hands clutched to his chest. If I wasn't concerned about distracting him from driving, my hands could easily roam over his chest, across his rippled stomach, down to his thighs, and finally to his dick. Instead, I settled for sliding my hands under his leather jacket and subtly exploring his six-pack.

You heard that right—a leather jacket in August. Edward was a stickler for safety, insisting that we both not only wear helmets but that all skin was covered. "God forbid if we wrecked, this layer will keep your skin from being left on the asphalt," he'd explained when fitting me with my own purple and white motorcycle jacket.

When we came to a stop at a red light, my hands wandered from under his jacket, furtively sliding down his thighs. Edward covered one of my hands with his, rubbing it gently as we idled at the light. My free hand moved back up his muscled thigh, unexpectedly coming to rest between his legs. Honestly, I hadn't consciously planned it, but I couldn't resist the impulse to touch him there, with his legs spread and straddled over this mechanical beast. _So damn sexy._ My hand was possessed, acting independently as it cupped the bulge in his jeans.

"Bella!" His reproach was nearly drowned out by the rumble of the motorcycle as his hand flew off the handlebar and landed on mine. He moved it up to his stomach as he revved the engine, speeding off toward home. My wicked chuckle was for me only, silenced by the confines of my helmet.

As we turned onto our street a few minutes later, I realized we were now moving slowly enough that it wouldn't be too dangerous to indulge myself again.

Keeping one arm around his waist, I palmed his semi-hard erection with my free hand. My touch was not soft and teasing; I moved my palm over him firmly, with purpose. Feeling his cock grow and harden beneath my hand sent me into orbit, my desire growing out of control.

As soon as we came to a stop in our garage, he cut the engine and immediately yanked his helmet off. "Fucking hell, woman!" he bellowed.

I had already removed my helmet, hanging it on the back of the bike. Hearing the garage door close behind us, I responded to his half-hearted chastisement by blindly unbuttoning his jeans. I'd become quite adept at accessing button-fly jeans at lightning speed.

Still straddling the bike, I pressed my cheek to his back as I freed him from his jeans, wrapping my hands around his length.

"Fuck!" He gripped my thighs on each side of him, his fingers digging into my flesh.

After several firm strokes, I swung my leg around and stood up. Before Edward could move, I bent over and took him into my mouth. I moaned at the sensation of warm, salty silk on my tongue. With an unprecedented low number of bobs up and down, he exploded in my mouth, his fingers threaded tightly in my hair.

As I stood up, he got off his bike, not saying a word as he buttoned up his jeans. When his eyes finally met mine, they were dark and predatory. He scooped me up, and I wrapped my legs around his waist as he carried me into the house.

With our motorcycle jackets still on, he laid me down on the first flat surface we came to—the kitchen table. After yanking my jeans down to my knees, he dropped down and buried his face between my legs.

"Best goddamn thing I've tasted at this table," he growled, his tongue warm and wicked as he returned to his ravenous indulgence.

I cried out, also finding my nirvana in record time.

Like I said, motorcycles were fucking sexy.

* * *

"I don't know, Mom," Edward mumbled into the phone, his jaw clenching. "I don't understand why you'd want us to go ahead and get married now. If we did, it would be down at the courthouse."

Edward's jaw relaxed as he paused and then chuckled at something Esme must have said. "Yeah, well, I thought you'd want a big wedding to get your hands on."

I crawled onto our bed next to Edward, propping my pillows against the headboard so I could sit up. Removing the lid from my red felt-tip pen, I set to work reading and grading a stack of essays written by my sophomore students. I'd learned during my first month of teaching that a teacher's day extends far beyond the hours in the classroom.

"Well, thanks for doing that for me, Mom, especially so quickly." Edward's fingers trailed ever so lightly over my bare thigh, leaving goose bumps behind. "I promise I'll let you know asap," he added with a chuckle.

I refocused my attention on reading the essay in front of me, trying to tune Edward out. But it was difficult to do with his hand caressing my leg and his velvet voice luring me in. Perhaps I should take my grading to another room.

"It's fine," Edward said curtly. My head jerked up, looking at him and wondering what in the world had caused his mood to change so quickly.

"I don't have much choice in the matter," he continued. "I either attend therapy or I'll be given a medical discharge."

He was quiet for a minute, and I wondered what Esme might be saying to him about his mandated therapy. "I know." He sighed, his tone softening. "I love you, too, Mom."

After he said goodbye and hung up, I turned to him, deciding to attempt a conversation about the counseling he'd been undergoing for the last three weeks. I hadn't broached the subject at all since our talk at the restaurant when I'd gotten him to agree that maybe therapy could help him since it had been healing for me. His psychologist was pushing him into uncomfortable conversations during each appointment, I was sure, so I wanted his home with me to be a refuge where he didn't have to face his demons. Though, I was curious about the techniques being used to help Edward, compared to the therapy I'd undergone with Riley.

I set the stack of essays on the nightstand and turned over, snuggling into Edward's side. "Is it horrible?"

He didn't answer for a long beat. Wrapping his arm around me, he pulled me tighter against his body. "Yes, I'd say it's horrible. It's certainly not a walk in the park."

I remained silent, hoping he'd continue on his own. My fingers gently tugged on the chest hair not covered by his wife beater.

"Major Uley said I suffer from survivor's guilt. That's actually a clinical term." He snorted humorlessly. "It used to be an actual diagnosis in and of itself, but now it's considered to be a symptom of PTSD."

"Do you agree with him?"

"I kind of have to, I guess, because I do feel fucking guilty. I was responsible for those men. It's unfair that I should be here, healthy and alive, when they're not. It just doesn't make sense."

"I didn't have that particular symptom since I was the only one involved in my shooting, so . . . uh, how do they help you? How do they treat survivor's guilt?"

Edward's fingers combed through my hair, tugging gently all the way down to the ends. It was so soothing.

"Uley said that I've never fully grieved James or the others. He said that he'll help me do that, which is supposed to somehow fucking magically relieve the guilt."

"Maybe it will."

"Maybe. I'll try."

* * *

"Do you want your birthday cake now or a little later?"

"Oh, my god, most definitely later." I pushed my plate to the side, trying to resist eating the last of the linguini with clam sauce that Edward had made for my birthday dinner. "I'm afraid I've over-indulged. My belly is beyond capacity."

Edward swallowed the last of his wine, setting the empty goblet on the table. "That's the highest compliment for a chef. I'm so glad you enjoyed it."

"Everything was perfect—the food, the candlelight, the wine, and your company. Thank you." I leaned toward him, puckering my lips. Edward smiled as he took hold of my hand and leaned over the table, kissing me softly.

"You're not too full to open your present are you?"

"Not unless it's something heavy that I have to pick up," I joked, smiling coyly.

"I think you can handle it." Edward stood up and took my hand in his, leading me out of the formal dining room. "Let's get comfortable on the couch."

As we entered the family room, he dropped my hand and told me he'd be right back as he bounded toward the hallway.

I slowly lowered my overly satiated body to the sofa and leaned my head back, closing my eyes. Life was good. On my twenty-sixth birthday, I had everything I could possibly wish for—a teaching job that I loved, a man by my side whom I adored, a beautiful home, good friends, and peace knowing that Edward and I both were on the road to emotional recovery.

I was no longer in therapy with Riley, and after only a month of counseling, I'd started to see small changes in Edward. He was more open with me than he'd ever been about his demons, his nightmares, and his guilt. He'd actually started sharing personal anecdotes about James with me from time to time.

"You can't go to sleep yet," Edward chided, startling me from my musings. "Your birthday celebration has only begun."

I opened my eyes, smiling at him as he sat down beside me holding a rectangular present, wrapped in shiny silver paper. "I was only relaxing. I'm all yours now."

"I hope so because this is a very special gift," he said, his tone serious. "It requires your full attention."

"Well, all right then," I quipped in mock solemnity, sitting up and reaching for the gift.

I turned the gift around in my hands, rubbing my fingers all over it exaggeratedly. "Hmm, whatever could it be?" I asked, my brows furrowed contemplatively. "It has the dimensions of a book, the thickness of a book, and" —I knocked on it like a door— "it sounds like a book."

"All right, I confess—it's a book. You outsmarted my attempts at concealment. But you don't know _which_ book, do you, smart ass?"

We laughed together as I tore into the paper, quickly revealing the cover. "You remembered!"

It was a hardback copy of Pablo Neruda's poetry, _Full Woman, Fleshly Apple, Hot Moon. _Good lord, just the title alone sounded erotic. I looked up to see Edward smiling at me.

"You know me so well, baby," I said, leaning over and pecking his lips. "Thank you." I began thumbing through the pages when I noticed a silver bookmark peeking out from the top.

I slid my finger into the gap between the pages, opening it to the bookmarked page. I barely registered the sterling silver swan bookmark because what was dangling from it on a red ribbon took center stage. I gasped. It was a ring—a _diamond_ ring nestled in a square cut-out in the pages.

I looked for Edward beside me, but unbeknownst to me, he'd moved surreptitiously to the floor. He was down on one knee, looking up at me with a peaceful, soft smile on his lips.

_Oh, sweet baby jeebus, was he__—_

Time seemed to slow to a dream-like state, even as my heart rate sped up. Edward gently removed my hands from the book, leaving it resting on my lap. I looked at him, his handsome face beginning to blur as my eyes welled up.

Holding my hands in his, he spoke with a sensually masculine cadence to his tone:

"_I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.  
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;  
so I love you because I know no other way than this:  
where I does not exist, nor you,  
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,  
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep."_

His eyes now matched my own, glistening with emotion. Joyful tears freely streamed down my cheeks. I honestly hadn't expected this; I'd accepted that our engagement was indefinitely postponed. But here he was on his knees, my sweet Edward, proposing to me and reciting Neruda poetry to boot.

Edward took a breath, clearing his throat. "Isabella Marie Swan, will you marry me, Edward Anthony Cullen, and make me happier than I ever imagined was possible?"

I was full-on crying now. "Yes!" I said emphatically, smiling as I pushed the book from my lap and launched myself at him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, I kissed him hard, and as I pushed my body against his, we toppled over.

We shrieked with laughter as we hit the floor. He was flat on his back, the length of my body covering his. "Yes," I whispered, dropping little kisses along his jaw, his cheek, on his nose, and back to his soft lips. "A million times, yes."

He cradled my face in his hands, stilling my kissing assault. "I love you, Bella, deeply and completely," he said tenderly.

"I love _you_. I'm the luckiest girl in the world."

He kissed me once more, a teasing smirk creeping up as he pulled away.

"As much as I'm enjoying having you on top of me, I'd love to see the ring on your hand. May I?"

"Oh! Yes!" I giggled, scooting off of him and standing up. "I saw it but I didn't see it, ya know?" I offered him my hand, pulling him up off the floor.

I sat back down on the couch, expecting Edward to do the same, but instead, after retrieving the ring from the book, he knelt down on one knee again. Taking my left hand in his, he slowly slid the ring onto my finger.

"Oh, Edward," I gasped, seeing the detail of the ring for the first time. "It's perfect."

A ginormous solitaire diamond was framed by oval and circular-shaped diamonds embedded in the silver band. It was unique, like no other engagement ring I'd ever seen.

"Yeah? I wasn't sure if you'd prefer something modern, but I thought you might like it, considering how much you loved the antiquity of Europe."

Glancing between the ring and Edward's gaze, I smiled, feeling deliriously giddy. "You know me so well, baby. I love it."

"This ring originally belonged to my great-grandmother, Eva, in the 1920s. Later, it was worn by her daughter-in-law, my Grandma Cullen, until she passed away when I was thirteen. Since then it's been in a safety deposit box, waiting for the love of my life to come along."

Edward really didn't need Neruda; he frequently melted me with his romanticism and his way with words. Stroking his cheek, I smiled as another wayward tear trickled down my cheek. "It's even more perfect now, knowing it's a family heirloom. I'll treasure it always, just as I'll treasure you."

He smiled, a grin so heartfelt that the skin around his glimmering, emerald eyes crinkled. He was the most beautiful man ever created, I was certain, because the splendor of his soul equaled the beauty of his physical form.

Rising from his kneeling position, he slid onto the sofa beside me and pulled me onto his lap. His arms encompassed me, pulling me flush against his chest and touching his warm, wet mouth to mine.

A comforting peace settled upon me, recognizing that our souls had become beautifully entangled since the day we'd met and knowing we would continue to be one, regardless of any obstacles that might come our way. Twirling the symbol of his love around on my finger, I melted into him, knowing _that we would be good_.

* * *

**A/N: The proposal was inspired by a real-life proposal. My online Twi-friend, R4L, was proposed to in this way, except the book used was Eclipse and was opened to the proposal scene on page 460. Pretty awesome fiancé, huh? **

**There is a photo of the book/ring on my blog or in TIWBG Facebook group. So that is what it looked like, except our PTSDward used a Neruda book. Also, check out the picture of Bella's engagement ring.**

**Story blog: tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. **

**For photos and general chat, come join the TIWBG Facebook group. Just insert the following after the Facebook URL – /groups/281151482005898/**

**Then request to be added to the group. **

"**Thoughts become things–choose the good ones." -Mike Dooley **


	38. Epilogue

**Disclaimer: Twilight and its characters belong to Stephenie Meyer. Everything else is original and belongs to me, Cosette Cullen. Thank you for the inspiration, SM. **

**A/N: Considering that for some of you it has been nearly three years since you read the first few chapters of this story, I thought a couple of reminders might be in order before reading the epilogue. Edward and Bella first saw each other when the train to Paris made an unexpected stop, but it was in Notre Dame Cathedral that they first spoke to each other. Then they unexpectedly ran into each other again a couple hours later at the Louvre. Another tidbit – they made love for the very first time at a hotel in Stratford-upon-Avon (Shakespeare's hometown). **

* * *

**Epilogue – May 2013**

**~*~ **_**Bella**_** ~*~**

"Who holds the rings?" the priest asked, his French accent enhancing the grandeur of the renewal of vows ceremony.

"I do." Emmett retrieved our wedding rings from his suit pocket and handed them to the priest.

"Let us bless these rings," he went on. "O God, these rings are circles, symbols that remind us of the Sun, and the Earth, and the universe. Symbols of perfection and peace, that which has no beginning and no end."

With my arm hooked through Edward's, I listened to the words of the blessing as my eyes took in the beauty of the altar of Notre Dame. I was breathless with joy and gratitude.

"And so, in this moment," the priest continued, with a slight clearing of his throat, "bring your blessing to these rings to also be symbols of unity, of joining and of commitment. Grant that the love which Edward and Isabella have for each other now, may always be."

"Please face one another," he instructed, handing one of the rings to Edward. "You may proceed with the exchange of rings and vows."

We did as directed, turning to look at each other. Edward was otherworldly handsome in a black tuxedo, his face clean-shaven, which was a rarity, and his hair longer than when we'd gotten married at the courthouse five years ago, but shorter than the sex hair he'd had when we'd first met.

I sighed, a soft smile on my lips as I looked into his eyes, wondering how he'd become even more stunningly handsome with age.

Edward held my hand in his, the ring poised at the end of my finger.

"My Bella, when I placed this ring on your finger nearly six years ago, I thought it impossible that I could ever cherish you more than I did on that day."

With his eyes holding my teary gaze, he slowly slid the ring on as he continued. "After five years of marriage, my love and gratitude for you are deeper than I'd ever imagined. You've selflessly given me so much, enriching my life in every way. You've brought laughter and wonder into my world. Your patience and compassion have helped heal wounds that I had before we met. And somehow, seemingly without effort, you have inspired me to be a better man and a better father. Our precious Eva is the greatest gift you've given me.

"In the presence of these witnesses, I thank God for allowing our paths to cross in this very building, this holy cathedral, six years ago. Isabella Marie Swan Cullen, I promise to love you and cherish you until the end of time."

I hastily wiped a tear from my cheek as the priest handed me Edward's wedding band. I was the English teacher, and yet, my prepared vows now seemed to pale in comparison to the beauty of Edward's words. I mentally discarded my memorized monologue, choosing instead to spontaneously share what was in my heart in the present moment.

"My sweet Edward," I began, holding his hand in mine as I returned his wedding band to where it belonged. "We've all probably heard the saying that without risk, there is no reward. There was a time when I didn't believe that, and my fears ruled me, causing me to walk away from you. It still scares me to death to think that I very nearly took a path that would have robbed us both of so much. Fortunately, before it was too late, I did take the risk and was rewarded with a loving husband and our beloved daughter.

"Edward, you've made me feel like a princess today, renewing our vows in this awe-inspiring cathedral, wearing a gown fit for royalty. But it is because you treat me like a princess every single day of our lives that I know my decision to take a chance with you was the most important and greatest thing I've ever done."

One corner of Edward's mouth twitched, turning up into a soft, modest smile. He could blush all he wanted because what I was telling him and our guests was true—he was always so good to me. Sure, we'd had our share of disagreements and conflicts throughout our years of marriage, but he had never treated me with disrespect. His first priority had always been for my welfare and happiness.

I smiled back at him, taking a measured breath in an effort to quell my emotions. "And today I make that choice again, to recommit myself to you, to experience this life journey together as one, and to love you unconditionally, now and forever. I love you, Edward."

His warm hands cradled my own, gently squeezing them as we looked into each other's teary eyes.

"Edward and Isabella, I pronounce you as your hearts have always known you to be—husband and wife. Edward, you may kiss your beautiful bride!"

He responded to the priest's pronouncement with my very favorite Edward smile, the one that lights up his whole face and makes the skin around his eyes crinkle up. I knew I must be grinning just as wildly because I could feel the pressure on my cheeks, my facial muscles stretched to the limit. And then his hands were on my face, my cheeks relaxing at his touch and my lips falling open to his.

I'd always said that I couldn't imagine his kisses ever getting old or boring, and I'd been right. Kissing Edward still took my breath away, and I felt genuine gratitude about that. I knew that it was a rare thing, and I intended to treasure the gift I'd been given. That was part of the reason we were renewing our vows—we didn't ever want to take each other or our love for granted. He kissed me softly, his lips moving slowly over mine, almost reverentially.

As we broke the kiss, smiling at each other again, the priest spoke loudly to our guests. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is my honor to present to you, once again as husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Edward Cullen."

As I began to turn to face our guests, my eyes caught sight of Emmett beaming happily behind Edward. I smiled warmly at him, and then my gaze trailed down to his son, our three-year-old ring bearer standing beside him. Ethan McCarty flashed his dimples at me, looking like a mini-clone of his dad.

Facing our guests, we both crouched down to Eva's level. Holding Alice's hand and gazing at me, she looked a little starry-eyed.

"Mommy, you wook so bootiful," she whispered excitedly.

"Thank you, baby girl," I said as Edward and I wrapped our arms around her, pulling her into a family hug.

"Both of my girls are beautiful," Edward told her, his fingers gently pulling at one of her many copper-colored ringlets. "You look like a princess today, Eva."

She giggled as her daddy lifted her into his arms. Alice nudged me, reminding me to take my bouquet back from her. I slipped my arm through Edward's, and we began the long walk down the aisle between the pews as a recommitted family unit.

My heart was so full, seeing the smiles, tears, and warmth on the faces of our friends and family. Edward had paid all the expenses for them to fly to Paris to be here with us in Notre Dame Cathedral, to share in the celebration of our love and marriage. It was especially meaningful to have them here since none of them had witnessed our first wedding.

After our engagement, we hadn't been in a hurry to set a wedding date. With Edward struggling with intense PTSD therapy and me adjusting to my first year of teaching, dealing with the stress of planning a big wedding wasn't terribly appealing.

One day in May, about six months after he'd put the ring on my finger on my birthday, we realized during a casual conversation that we didn't want to wait any longer, but neither did we want the burden of wedding planning. So, the next week, we'd eloped, getting married at the courthouse. We had hell to pay when our family found out, especially from Edward's mother and Alice.

As we slowly walked down the aisle, my eyes scanned the faces in our small group of loved ones. My mother-in-law, Esme, was dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief. Carlisle's arm was draped over her shoulder, and he met my eyes, smiling softly.

Next to them sat my sweet dad. He was here alone, still a bachelor, but he seemed happy enough. Meeting my eyes, he blew me a kiss.

Behind Charlie, I saw my mom and Phil, beaming proudly. My brother, Seth, and his sweet fiancée, Leah, were sitting next to them. Every time I saw Seth, I couldn't help but send out a silent utterance of gratitude. He was clean and sober. I counted it a miracle that I had my brother back, the one I'd adored before drugs turned him into someone else. Even though he'd done three years in prison and was six years sober, Edward still just barely tolerated him. I think he'd forgiven Seth, but Edward just couldn't forget that Seth was the person who had nearly taken me away from him forever.

I smiled at everyone, so happy to have the most important people in our lives with us. There was Rosalie and Riley—they'd been married for about three years now. After trying to get pregnant for over a year, they'd recently started infertility treatment.

My friend, Angela, and her husband, Ben, had made the trip from Phoenix. I really hadn't expected them to be able to fly across the ocean being parents of twin toddlers, but they'd left their babies with Angela's parents.

We'd invited Jasper and his wife, but they weren't able to attend because their first baby was due in just a few weeks. I'd been thrilled when Jasper finally found his other half when she'd started teaching at the same high school. Edward and I, along with Alice and Emmett, had flown from Seattle to Phoenix to attend their wedding last year.

As we passed by the last pew, Edward led me to the open area by the South Rose window, the magnificent stained-glass I'd been gazing at when Edward spoke to me for the very first. We'd decided it would be the perfect spot to greet our guests after the ceremony.

As we took our places beneath the window, Alice, Emmett, and Ethan were right behind. They gave me a quick hug and kiss, followed by one-armed hugs from Edward since he was still holding our daughter.

"Eva, I'm going to take you and Ethan outside to enjoy the sunshine for a little while, okay?" Alice said enticingly.

Edward lowered Eva to her feet, kissing her forehead. "We'll be out in a little while, princess. We're just going to talk to all our friends and family for a few minutes."

Because we saw Alice all the time, she'd offered to keep Eva occupied after the ceremony. Since moving to Seattle after Edward's discharge from the Army three years ago, Alice and Emmett had become even more like family, they having moved there at the same time. Actually, we spent more time with them than we did with Edward's actual family, though we were quite close to them as well.

"Let's pway, Ewa," little Ethan said, reaching for her hand.

"Bye, Mommy. Bye-bye, Daddy." She smiled, looking at us over her shoulder as she walked away with Alice and Emmett.

As I blew her a kiss, I felt warm, soft lips on my cheek. I looked up into my husband's sparkling green eyes, our faces so close I felt his warm breath on my lips as his arms encircled my waist.

"How is it that you're more breathtakingly beautiful than the first time I married you?" he whispered, one eyebrow arched as if he really expected an answer.

"During the ceremony, I was thinking the exact same thing about you, Mr. Cullen." I kissed him softly—once, and then again, and just once more—because his lips were intoxicating.

"Break it up, break it up." Angela's cheerfully teasing voice interrupted our kiss. "We're on hallowed ground here."

"Angela!" I held my arms out, pulling her into a fierce hug. "I'm so happy you're here."

"Are you kidding?" Ben asked incredulously. "We should be thanking you two for your generosity in footing the bill."

"It really is our pleasure," Edward reassured them. "You're going to love France, especially if you enjoy art. The Louvre is a must. Right, Bella?"

I giggled, smiling coyly at Edward. "Oh, yes, I love the Louvre . . . _so_ much."

"Speaking of works of art," Ben interrupted our flirtatious meandering down memory lane, "Angela mentioned you recently had the unveiling of the memorial?"

Edward's eyes lit up as they had every time he'd worked on the planning and design of the memorial statue he'd commissioned of his friend, Specialist James Winters. It was a memorial for all the men who lost their lives in Iraq or Afghanistan, but the bronze soldier was in James' likeness.

"Oh, yeah, it turned out even better than I'd hoped. I've got pictures of it." Pulling his cellphone from an inside pocket of his tux, he grinned as his finger swiped across the screen. "It was unveiled just last week in Chicago.

"Why Chicago?" Angela asked.

"That's James' hometown. His wife and family still lives there," I explained as Edward held out his phone for Ben and Angela to see the picture.

They complimented Edward on the design and what a wonderful thing it was that he'd done, something that must mean a great deal to James' widow. They were right—she'd been deeply touched. I believed it was healing not only for her but for Edward as well.

Edward's journey toward healing had been a long and painful one. The first six months of therapy had been intense and trying. He'd actually regressed at first, with more angry outbursts and an increase in nightmares. But gradually I began to see changes in his demeanor, in the way he'd talk more freely about the friends he'd lost in battle. His nightmares became nearly non-existent after the first year of counseling. The sessions were no longer mandatory at that point, but he'd elected to continue for another year, though with less frequency.

Initially, he'd resented not being able to go back into combat, but eventually he came to really love his job as a drill sergeant. It was his job to train and mold young men into disciplined, responsible, and fearless soldiers. He was empowered by this, feeling that he was making a difference by producing the best of the best to represent our country.

A line of our friends and family was forming, so Angela and Ben gave us their congratulations and thanks before stepping aside.

Rosalie and Riley ambled up to us, both of them beaming. Riley shook Edward's hand and gave me a quick hug before telling us how poignant the ceremony had been.

"You don't know how to do anything in moderation, do you, brother?" Rose smirked, leaning in and kissing Edward's cheek.

Clearly Rose's question was rhetorical because she didn't take a breath, grinning like only a teasing sister can. "You went from one end of the spectrum—getting married at the courthouse—to the complete opposite end of the spectrum—marrying in the most famous cathedral in the world."

"It wasn't about wanting extravagance, Rose. You know that. Notre Dame has significant personal meaning for us."

She chuckled, reaching out to Edward for a hug. "I know, and it really was beautiful."

"And you, Isabella," she said dramatically, holding my hands and kissing my cheek, "are a vision."

"Thank you, Rose." I glanced down at my wedding gown. It truly was fit for royalty with its ivory applique lace laid over the tulle floor-length skirt, and the capped sleeves and sweetheart neckline were decidedly feminine. "I'm so glad you were both able to take time away from work and be here with us."

Rosalie ignored my thanks, not willing to miss another opportunity to tease her brother. "Really, Edward, how are you restraining yourself right now? She's Aphrodite-incarnate in that gown."

Edward blushed, but then he looked her straight in the eyes. "I just keep telling myself that our second honeymoon starts in"—he held up his arm, looking at his silver Rolex dramatically—"approximately thirty minutes."

They chuckled as I pressed my head against Edward's shoulder, my cheeks feeling flushed.

"Where are you going on this second honeymoon?" Riley asked.

He was looking at Edward, but I was so excited about our plans, I couldn't help but answer. "We're heading down to Greece for a week, and then over to England to the Lake District for several days. And then after that, we'll make a quick stop in Stratford. It holds some personal meaning for us as well."

Rose stepped closer to Riley, sliding her arm around his waist. "What kind of meaning?"

"The _personal_ kind, Rose," Edward said succinctly before looking at Riley, his brows furrowed and his mouth twitching humorously. "Bella did say the word personal, right? Did you hear that, Ri?"

"I do believe I heard her say personal."

"Well, clearly it has to do with sex or else you'd just tell me," Rose said matter-of-factly. "So no need to answer further—you already have."

Always the gentleman, Riley changed the subject. "Rose and I are excited to spend some time with Eva while you're gone."

"She's excited, too. She keeps talking about having slumber parties with Papa and Nana, and then with Alice and Emmett, and with you two, Uncle Ri-wee and Aunt Woze." I affectionately imitated Eva's sweet toddler pronunciation of their names.

Rose announced that they were taking too much of our time, pointing out that the line was stacking up behind them. They said their goodbyes with Riley telling Edward how much he was looking forward to working together when we returned to Seattle.

I never could have dreamed it back when Riley was counseling me before my shooting, helping me work through my fears so I could take the chance with Edward. But Riley and Edward were going to be business partners, working together as psychologists at Riley established practice.

After leaving the Army, Edward had gone back to college and earned his Master's in Psychology, graduating just last week. He was qualified to treat various psychological ailments, but of course, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder was his specialty. He was looking forward to doing some pro bono work at the veteran's hospital.

I couldn't be any more proud of my husband. He'd worked so hard over the years to overcome his demons and was now dedicated to helping others with theirs.

I was teaching English at a local Seattle high school, which was immeasurably rewarding. Most recently, I'd dedicated myself to preparing some of my poetry for publishing. After months of multiple rejection letters, I'd finally been noticed by a small publishing company. My book of poems was due to be released at the end of the year.

Now, my focus was on expanding our family. Edward and I had decided it was time for another little Cullen. We were planning to work very hard on that task during our two-week second honeymoon. My favorite kind of work, I might add.

My dad was next, stepping up to me and pulling me into a big bear hug. Then it was Edward's turn, Dad hugging him just as fervently as he had me. Charlie was Edward's biggest fan, I think, next to me.

"So this is where you found this guy, huh?"

"That's right." I smiled, glancing up at Edward. His eyes held the emotion of our cherished memories of that day when he'd approached me, commenting on the beauty of the stained-glass window. "In this exact spot, actually."

"You done good, baby girl." Charlie's voice cracked. He paused, clearing his throat. "You've both done real good."

Edward pressed his lips to my forehead, and I tipped my chin up, looking into his eyes. The ever present energy we'd felt between us since we'd first met pulsated as I held his gaze. We smiled, a peaceful knowing in our heart's that my father's words were true.

* * *

**A/N: Generally weddings are not allowed in Notre Dame Cathedral as it is no longer a parish, but they are allowed on rare occasions. Given Edward's wealth, we'll assume he was able to make it happen. **

**It has taken me an embarrassing 2.5 years to write this little story. I'm still astounded that so many of you have been with me since the beginning, never giving up on our beloved PTSDward and his Bella. Thank you so very much for your support. It has been a rewarding and challenging journey, exploring and pushing my creative mind. **

**I'm aware that some readers chose to stop reading and wait for the story to complete (which I probably would have done myself), so please spread the word to them that TIWBG is now complete and ready to download. **

**You can find a PDF and MOBI copy of the complete story, as well as pictures of Bella's wedding dress, etc at the story blog: ****tiwbg dot wordpress dot com. **

**Or join the private TIWBG Facebook group for copies of the story and pictures. Just copy & paste - groups/281151482005898/ - to the end of the Facebook url and request to be added to the group.**

**I owe a debt of gratitude to my betas: ****GuitarGirl, Pickwicksociety, Mel/mcc101180, JenKB, and Wiltshire Glo. **

**And if I could, I would bestow upon my beta, GuitarGirl, her wildest RobDream come true because she has been with me on this literary journey from the very beginning to the very end. Now that's some fucking loyalty! Muu-aahhh!**


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